


Not Alone

by Idishi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Criminal Cases, Domestic Disputes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, In Character, M/M, Only Kinda Epilogue Compliant, Parenthood Issues, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Canon, Post-War, PotionsMaster!Draco, Really Really Really Slow Build, Sexy times eventually, auror!Harry, family centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 132,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idishi/pseuds/Idishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have one thing in common -- they both grew up doing what they were told to do. Now that the dust has settled after the Battle of Hogwarts, will they finally find happiness in pursuing what they both believe they want in life? Or will it take them forever to realize that they might be looking in all the wrong places? </p><p>Yeahhh, it'll <i>definitely</i> take forever for them to figure out they're not alone.</p><p><b>Really really really slow build</b>, not for the impatient. As close to canon as possible. Read the tags to get a better idea of the story :) Also includes some magical theory, criminal cases, potions mysteries, lots of drinking and banter between boys :) Comments and Kudos are very welcome here! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> All characters from the Harry Potter Universe are the creations and property of the most talented JK Rowling. I wish I had thought of them first. But no, I didn't. I don't even make any profit from them. So I just write about them :D
> 
> I'd like to note that the "Present" storyline begins on Chapter 9. While it may seem a chore to go through the "Flashback" chapters (2 to 8), I'm hoping that you'll read them anyway so you can appreciate the Present timeline more and understand the characters better. Also, the characters are written as close to canon as possible (meaning any traits I imagined can be traced directly from the books). The title, "Not Alone" comes from the song from "A Very Potter Musical", look up the lyrics, it's one of my favorite songs :) Comments and Kudos are very welcome here! Enjoy the story!!! <3

**(Present Day, 2005)**

              The late afternoon sun touched upon the edge of Harry's desk, forcing him to squint at the glowing curtains in frustration. He hadn't even realized until then that he had wasted away all of the daylight hours with his head bowed down, shuffling through piles of paper for his latest case.

              _My latest curse_ , he thought ruefully. Despite all the hassles of being Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Hero of the Wizarding World and Vanquisher of Voldemort, he had wanted to be a part of the rehabilitation of the magical realm he had grown into. When the dust of the Second Wizard War had settled, Harry found himself needing to be of service, to ensure that the Ministry wouldn't fall back into its corrupt history for as long as he was alive and kicking. It was who he was, and it was what he wanted. His decision, of course, spread like wildfire and countless owls peppered him with notes that promised full support of his noble cause.

              He leaned back onto his chair, closed his eyes and heaved out a sigh. Of course he knew that being an Auror meant more than just hunting down and fighting Dark wizards. But after five years on the job, he still couldn't get over how much he hated anything to do with parchment work. With another sigh, he made himself as comfortable as possible, and dove back into his reports.

              This case frustrated him, mostly because he knew he couldn't be out there, actually doing something, until he was able to glean enough information from the stacks of parchment littering his table. The severity of the situation was like a bell tolling in his head, reminding him that time was running out and that the consequences would be dire. His eyes flicked towards a photograph on one of the piles. He quickly averted his gaze, but the image had already been burned into his mind anyway. How could he forget that frail body, slumped on a carpeted floor, light hair strewn awkwardly on the floor around the girl's face? She was only one of many victims, and it was up to Harry to track down the murderer.

              After another hour of shuffling papers and scribbling quick notes, Harry heard a sharp tap on his window. In no time, he had a rather regal-looking Eagle owl swoop into the room. He took the crisp envelope clasped in its beak before he gave the beautiful bird a few owl treats. He already knew who wrote him, as he had been waiting all day for a favorable reply. An elegant script flowed on the parchment, while the contents of the letter were short and succinct.

              _With regards to your interesting inquiry this morning; Yes, I will meet with you._

              Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Harry once again relaxed onto his chair. A lot had really changed since the war. He felt much better now that he knew he would get the right kind of help he needed to move this case along, even if that help came from Draco Malfoy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! So this is the start of my first Drarry Fanfic ever, and I'm hoping some of you will like it as much as I have loved other awesome works here on Ao3 :) You should know that the entire plot is already laid out and complete, so I will be updating by chapter every week or every two weeks :) Enjoy!


	2. Courting Fate

 

**(Flashback, 1998)**

              Ron slapped his best mate on the back. Harry's eyes snapped open and he looked sheepishly at the red head to his right. He had fallen asleep at a most inopportune time, right in the middle of a speech being made by some local ministry official that Harry had, from early on, decided he didn't care about.

              "At least pretend to pay attention, Harry," Hermione hissed into his left ear.

              Harry huffed quietly. Winning the war had been great, but now he and the rest of the members of the DA were stuck in some godforsaken tour around the country for the rest of the year _(As if we hadn't had enough of that last year_ , he thought bitterly). He surveyed the banquet hall they were in, silently thanking Merlin that no one had been close enough to notice him drifting off.

              "Just another month," he heard Ginny whisper from behind Hermione. "Then we'll be alright."

              Harry visibly relaxed at that. She was right. He would finally get the private life he deserved, away from prying eyes, as soon as this cross-country tour was over and done with. With what he had up his sleeve, there was no way he wouldn't be able to get what he wanted. The wizarding world owed him as much.

              "—Harry Potter, everyone!"

              Ron nudged him again, nodding towards the crotchety witch in front, who had finally stepped off the podium. With a jolt, Harry realized that it was his turn to speak, and he nervously approached the space that the witch had vacated. Despite having done this quite a lot in the last two months, he still found that he was trembling. This time, however, it was because he actually had something worthwhile to say, and he fully intended to make sure the entire magical population would listen.

              Once he started speaking into the podium charmed with Sonorus, Harry automatically launched into his Boy-Who-Lived motivational speech. He had cringed when Kingsley gave him the list of inspirational sayings that the Ministry expected him to adhere to. The entire DA obliged, of course, because there hadn't really been other choices. After a full hall's worth of applause, one of the wizards seated near them made to start a Sonorus announcement, clearly believing the boy to be done. To everyone's surprise, however, Harry stopped him with a wave of his hand. Here we go, he thought to himself, taking a deep breath.

              "Before I go, there are some important matters I would like to address." He surveyed the audience before him, and pushed himself to go through with his plan. "I am well known to you all, who have been told all about me even for the first eleven years when I didn't even know myself." At this, a few tsks could be heard, punctuated by sad sighs. Harry ignored them.

              "The years I spent at Hogwarts had been a matter of public interest, and I'm sure that the writers over at the Daily Prophet can attest to that." He grinned pointedly at a flushing Rita Skeeter, who gave a shrug. "Everything I did, and didn't, were never mine to keep to myself or share only to those I cared about. Each triumph, humiliation, speculation and condemnation was free for all, and I would wish for all that to end."

              Several heads snapped up, interest peaking. Not a single breath was released, and a dropped pin would have echoed thunderously. The reactions just made it easier for Harry to finish what he had to say. The earlier he could leave, the better.

              "There is an ancient law, I have learned, that can and will allow me to enjoy my privacy again, to live my life freely without worry of being caught unawares by reporters; without being closely scrutinized by people I don't even know. I think, after all I have personally been through in the last eighteen years, that I at least deserve this without having to fight for it. I therefore plan to formally invoke the ancient right to _Solum Sanctuarii_."

 

***

              Harry could swear that the silence around him suddenly became deafening, if that were even possible. How was it that he had been able to feel braver in front of an audience filled with faceless strangers? Yet now that he was in an official meeting with Ministry representatives, he almost felt like a little child who was asking for more than he could have. In fact, the entire affair looked exactly like his hearing back when he was 15. _Feels like it, too,_ he thought glumly.

              After he had filed for his formal request (which was the first of its kind in over two hundred years), he'd been asked to present his case to the assembled officials. Having just finished, Harry now nervously waited for his words to sink in, realizing he had no idea what kind of reactions to expect. Finally, when it seemed that every person had forgotten how to breathe, Kingsley Shacklebolt stood up and approached the brunet.

              "Is this what you really want, Harry?" he inquired quietly, making the younger man feel as if he and the Minister for Magic were sharing a private, intimate moment without a handful of spectators privy to their conversation. Of course, he knew that this conversation would have had to happen eventually anyway, seeing as he needed the Ministry's approval and endorsement if he wanted to pursue the invocation. Without missing a beat, Harry nodded eagerly, betraying his impatience at finally having the life he wanted.

              Naturally, no one else but those nearest Harry and Kingsley could hear the exchange, so majority of the people present still had looks of confusion stamped on their faces. _Why would Harry Potter think of such a thing? He's the Boy Who Lived! Twice! He had always been and should always be a part of the Wizarding public! Would the Minister even indulge him in this odd request?_

              Kingsley gave Harry a long piercing gaze. There was a palpable tension in his expression, and Harry imagined that he was probably weighing the pros and cons, as well as the possible consequences for himself, Harry, the Ministry and the entire wizarding community. It was at times like this that he could see why the former Auror was perfectly suited to be the Minister. Harry also knew that his shocking request would be seriously considered by the man and not just taken lightly.

              Sure enough, Kingsley gave a curt nod, schooled his features into what Harry called his 'official face', and addressed the assembly in his deep, booming voice.

              "As Minister for Magic," he said, "the power is vested in me to decide whether or not to award Mr. Harry Potter the right to _Solum Sanctuarii_ , it being an old and ancient invocation and thus rooted in traditional magical bindings. Surely, no one here is in denial of the fact that his very involvement was the key to defeating Voldemort." Many representatives nodded in assent, just to show the Minister that they agreed. That was always important, naturally.

              "As Kingsley Shacklebolt, and not as the Minister," Kingsley continued, and Harry detected a change in his tone. "As myself, I personally witnessed the many hardships that Mr. Potter underwent to secure the safety and freedom of the wizarding community. I was his comrade within the Order of the Phoenix. I knew him when a great responsibility was thrust upon him, at such a young age, and he took it upon himself to see it through to the end. In only a few years, he had no choice to become the selfless man that he has become, and he was never the dangerous, careless, misguided child that many were inclined to believe with so much conviction." Harry finally realized the strange new tone the Minister used – it was a voice full of sincere affection. He immediately felt a rush of gratitude for the man.

              This time, there were some in the audience who shuffled uncomfortably. Many present were loyal subscribers to the Daily Prophet, of course, and had believed the rumors.

              Kingsley cleared his throat to pull the audience back from their guilty thoughts. "Harry Potter has been deemed as a Hero of the Wizarding World, and awarded with the Order of Merlin, First Class. He is a hero in every sense of the word, as well as in our history books, and his name has been marked with distinction equal to the greatest heroes of the Wizarding World. He is, therefore, within his right to invoke _Solum Sanctuarii_." He took a scroll of official-looking parchments from the podium and began to read out. "Mr. Harry James Potter, of sound mind, body and core, has presented his request to the assembled representatives of the Wizengamot. How does the Assembly elect to respond?"

              This was the moment, Harry knew. This would decide if he would finally, _finally_ get one thing he wanted for himself.

 

***

 

              Bright light filled the room. With a sharp gasp, the blond on the bed sat bolt upright and glanced around with apprehension. Then he realized that it was still pretty dark, that he was not under attack, and that an errant ray of moonlight had fallen on his face while he was sleeping and woken him up. With a shake of his head, he strode to the en suite bathroom and stared up at his own reflection in the mirror.

              For someone who had gone through what he did in the last few months, Draco Malfoy didn't look the part. In fact, despite his circumstances, he had made it a point to appear even more well kempt than before. His eyes shone with an icy brilliance, and his silky hair glowed in the light of the moon. Only his pale face betrayed the nightmare he had just woken up from.

              He had realized after the war that he more than anyone else would have to fight for his name and honor every single day. He already knew that very few would take him seriously, or even give him their attention. He therefore promised to do everything in his power to regain the respect he deserved. Focusing on his appearance may have sounded mere vanity by others, but Draco was a calculating soul, and he made it clear that he was doing the very opposite of languishing in the shame and shadow of his family's history. No, none of that. He would, in fact, do everything in his power to show the world that he would stand up and fight to redeem the Malfoy family honor, and do it all while still looking good.

              After splashing his face with cool water, he went back to his bedroom and cast a quick _Tempus_. It was still quite early, but deciding that he was too much awake already, Draco hastily threw on a robe and went down to his study. That was where he spent most of his days anyway, since there really wasn't much for a former Death Eater on probation to do out of his home. In truth, he cherished these moments of quiet since it allowed him to focus on his personal interests without a deranged evil Dark Lord threatening his life every other day. Yes, this was a pleasant change to his daily routine.

              His private study was as immaculately maintained as himself. Nary a book was out of its proper place, and god forbid if a house elf left a speck of dust anywhere within the room. Sinking into an armchair by the fire, Draco instinctively thought of Flooing Blaise, but then realized the ungodly hour and reminded himself to do so much later. The chair was cozy, and his mind drifted off to those days right after the war when his life had changed course. No doubt that another upheaval was coming his way... but Draco decided not to think about the upcoming trial until the very last moment.

 

***

 

              "It's our turn, Mother," Draco whispered softly to the wispy woman next to him. Narcissa Malfoy still looked as regal as her Black blood would allow, but no one could miss the uncharacteristic weakness that had seemed to plague her recently.   Truth be told, she looked quite forlorn, and some people even forgot for a second that she had been the wife and mother of Death Eaters. They always remembered this fact when their eyes fell back on Draco. He would always be judged by that.

              Mother and son quietly glided through a hallway, led by two Aurors. The door at the end would lead to the courtroom, where they would have to give their personal testimonies. The Aurors explained some protocol, but both Malfoys merely remained silent. Draco admitted that had he chosen to speak, all of his resolve would seep away and he wouldn't have the strength to face the full Wizengamot to save himself and his mother. He'd rather he saved his words for when it would really matter.

              As expected, they were ushered into the room full of Ministry officials, a few civilians and a couple of reporters. This was a private trial, though neither Draco nor Narcissa had any idea why they were even allowed that luxury. They didn't refuse or question, of course. At least not everyone would share the memory of seeing the once-regal Malfoys, magically bound by their wrists, awaiting judgment from people who would most definitely love to see them both thrown into Azkaban with Dementors.

              They were given Veritaserum before being allowed to give their testimonies. Neither had even talked about how much they would say, but the truth serum made it pointless to have rehearsed something that was even an inch away from the truth. At this point, both Draco and Narcissa just wanted to get this over with.

Their testimonies were quite the same, both choosing to provide truths but not giving details when not prompted. This way, they were able to keep a semblance of privacy with the memories that they'd rather remain forgotten. At least that's what Draco thought his mother had done as well. He definitely didn't include everything in his story. If the Wizengamot didn't ask, then they didn't need to know.

              After them, there was a whirlwind of witnesses presented to the court. Most of them were witnesses to the "crimes" of the Malfoy family, but a majority were obviously full of contempt at the mere mention of the name. A few were from pureblood families who had remained neutral in the war, and they spoke for the defense of the Malfoys. Of course, they were not taken as seriously.

              Finally, Draco realized they were almost done. He was already weighing the testimonies in his head, trying to calculate in whose favor the judge would fall. As the time for judgment finally came, however, there was a sudden hush, immediately followed by a flurry of violent whispers. Draco tried to twist from where he was seated to see the source of the commotion, but the high back of his chained chair blocked his view from behind.

              The Chief Warlock spoke in a grave voice, "Let the final witness take the stand."

              Draco and Narcissa looked surprised. It looked like everyone else was too, as they all thought the last witness (biased, of course) had already been cross examined. Then the biggest shock of his life hit him like a well-aimed Confundus.

              Harry Potter. Harry Bloody Freaking Potter had sat himself in the stands, his face unreadable and his posture quite relaxed. Calmly, he stated his name and introduction for the record. It was such an odd picture, and it contrasted greatly with the grim tension that now enveloped the chamber. Draco found himself clutching at his stone chair, his knuckles turning white. For the first time, he was trembling. His mother, on the other hand, had an even cooler expression on her face, as if she had been carved out of stone, and then turned to ice. Surely with Potter testifying against them, neither would see the light of day for the rest of their lives. He had all the information necessary to incriminate them both, after all. Draco flinched at the thought of his future being in the hands of his archenemy. He and his mother were at his mercy, and Draco hated it.

              Not a sound was heard the whole time Potter had the floor.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia time!: "Solum Sanctuarii" is literally Latin for "Sole Sanctuary". This will be elaborated in later Chapters. If you think it has bad grammar or syntax, kindly blame Google Translate :)


	3. Renaissance

**(Flashback, 1998)**

         The morning dawned with the most beautiful sunrise Harry had ever seen. Or maybe his good mood just made everything so much better. He felt the cool breeze that wafted through the open window; he could taste the scent of breakfast in the air; he could swear that the birds in the tree out front were singing a symphony of victory just for him. He had always cherished this, waking up at the Burrow, amidst the people who were his family in all but blood, but today was different. Today was going down as one of his happiest days ever.

         At that moment, he glanced his reflection in the window and realized that he had an almost comically manic grin on his face. If the writers at the Daily Prophet could have seen it, he was sure there would be an immediate wave of new headlines speculating his sanity. The Boy-Who-Went-Mental, perhaps? Or Gryffindor Goes Gaga? Maybe they could get Malfoy to give them a few of his creative titles. At this, Harry laughed heartily at himself. He was in such a good mood that even thinking of Malfoy couldn't dampen it.

         Today was different. Today, he was finally free.

***

         Mrs. Weasley definitely shared Harry's over-enthusiasm that morning, and their breakfast gave the impression that something was definitely being celebrated, albeit implicitly. Harry didn't mind. He was still on a high, and he went through his sausages still with a huge smile on his face.

         "You'll have to tone it down, mate," Ron called out from across the table, laughing. "Looks like your face is about to break!"

         "Oh shut it, Ron!" cried Ginny good naturedly, smiling from beside Harry. "Let him go loony all he wants, it's not every day that he can finally go mental without the entire world whingeing about it."

         Harry pretended to look affronted as he turned Ginny, his mouth still full of scrambled eggs as he tried to swallow quickly. "Hey!" he said, "you're supposed to be on my side and not call me crazy!"

         Ginny took a napkin and wiped away the stray bits of egg on Harry's chin. "Unfortunately, Harry, you do look like a crazed maniac right now, it merits a photograph!"

         As if on cue, a sudden pop and a flash of light blinded Harry for a moment, and when the haze of smoke disappeared he saw George fiddling with a camera. "Got it!" the prankster said. "This photo will definitely make me a millionaire! Oh but wait, I can't sell it! Damn! It's illegal now! Oh, woe is me!" He gave a dramatic sigh, then laughed along with everyone as he joined them at the table.

         "So, Harry," inquired Mr. Weasley, "how does it feel?"

         Everyone thought it was impossible, but when they saw Harry give an even brighter smile, they groaned. Harry ignored them.

         "It feels brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! I can't wait till I can actually try walking down Diagon Alley and not have any nosy reporters trying to catch me off guard. I mean, I'm eighteen and all but this'll be the first time I'll get to feel like I'm normal, y'know?"

         Mr. Weasley nodded enthusiastically. "I'm sure it will be a wonderful change in your life, m'boy."

         "Oh, it will be so odd not to have to fuss over our Harry when there's a particularly nasty crowd around, won't it?" gushed Mrs. Weasley, thinking of those countless times they were harassed for an interview or a photo.

         "Sorry," Harry mumbled. "I didn't mean for you all to be bothered by all of it..."

         "Nonsense, dear!" Mrs. Weasley admonished. "Don't take it the wrong way, I simply meant to say how horrid some people had been to you over the years!" She continued to grumble about reporters sticking their nose in his business as she fussed over the breakfast being served. Harry shook his head and let her go on her tirade. It was true that the Weasleys were the most harangued for "keeping the Chosen One from the rest of the world". In a way, Harry thought, this day was also for them to celebrate.

         Ron was pensive for a moment. "You know, Harry," he mused, "it's only just beginning to sink in. Now that you've got that magical binding around you, there's nothing anyone can do! No stolen photos, no embarrassing articles without your permission..."

         "Yeah," George piped up, "if only you had thought of this back when you were at Hogwarts, eh?"

         "He couldn't have, could he?" Ginny said thoughtfully. " _Solum Sanctuarii_ can only be invoked by persons of high status."

         "Too bad 'Chosen One' wasn't high enough of a status, I guess" Harry quipped.

         Ron shook his head, laughing. "Yeah but now you've got the Order of Merlin. That's pretty bad arse, mate."         

         George appeared to be thinking something through. "You know Harry, maybe we should petition to add 'Bad Arse Mother Fucker' to your growing list of accolades..."

         Ginny choked on her pumpkin juice. She blinked out tears of laughter while she thought it over in her head. "Harry Potter, BAMF. I like that."

         Harry rolled his eyes. Only with the Weasleys could he joke about his status as Savior and Chosen One without it being uncomfortable.

         There was a chime from the sitting room, and all people present looked towards the family clock, on which the hand bearing Percy's name swiveled from 'Traveling' to 'Home'. In a heartbeat, he stepped out of the Floo and brushed off the soot from his robes.

         "Morning, all!" Percy greeted, settling in a seat beside Ron and grabbing some toast. "Sorry I'm late, had a bit of a mess this morning at work, you see." At this, he winked at Harry, who had no idea what he meant.

         "What kind of mess?" asked Ron, who apparently didn't get the joke either.

         "Harry's new status, of course!" Percy said exasperatedly. "Honestly, Ron, how thick can you get? Harry here is the number one Hero and recognized in all magical communities around the world, he's one of the reasons some gossip rags are even running despite the trash they print, and suddenly he's called up the invocation that will prevent outsiders, _including the Ministry_ , from interfering with his personal life... Of course it's a mess! Add to that the fact that Harry actually spoke for the Malfoys at their hearing, without prior warning except to the higher ups.. Well, everything's a bit overturned at the moment, because people are trying to adjust to the new policies regarding both harry and the Malfoys."

         Harry flushed. "Er, sorry, I didn't actually think about any of that, actually..."

         Percy laughed. "Harry, you had every right to do that. Really, it's the least that the Ministry can do, to keep out of your life for once."

         "But you work there, don't you think -"

         "I do work there, and I love my job. But it doesn't mean I have to agree with everything they decide to do. I may have done before," he said pointedly for the benefit of Ron, who had an accusing look at his pompous brother, "but when I came to my senses I realized that no one but you has the right to dictate what to do with your life."

         "And the Malf-"

         "You had your reasons, Harry. Not everyone will understand. Hell, even I was a bit surprised when you told me your plan to appear in court, but again, no one can say anything about it because you chose to do it."

         Harry felt warmed by his words, and was a little embarrassed about it. "Thanks, Percy."

         "Go on then," said Ron, leaning back and rubbing over his middle. "Tell us all about how Harry caused mayhem in the Ministry yet again."

 

***

 

         Narcissa was lounging in the smaller breakfast alcove in a secluded corner of the Manor when Draco joined her for breakfast. The tension in her face, which her son had grown accustomed to in the last few months, had almost completely melted away, and her face was slowly returning to its graceful beauty. Draco himself, had flourished quite well after the strange events that occurred at their trial.

         His mother saw his expression as he sat down opposite her, and she guessed correctly at his thoughts.

         "I still can't believe it, either," she said softly, sipping her tea with finesse.

         Draco remained passive. He waited for the house elf to bring his breakfast to him, while he mulled over his mother's words. So much had gone on in just the last week that his usually sharp intellect was trying to catch up.

         First of all, Potter had taken all the legal steps to ensure his complete privacy and independence from the Ministry. That had taken the whole wizarding world by storm, causing all sorts of wonder and outrage from all sides. Then there was his defense of Draco and Narcissa. What was that about? Draco thought angrily.

         There he was, bloody war hero, saying nice things about the Malfoys to the Wizengamot. Narcissa remained still while he gave his testimony, but Draco shamelessly dropped his jaw, unable to hide his shock at what Potter had said. He learned about his mother's dangerous game of lying to the Dark Lord in the Forbidden Forest, which she had chosen to omit in her own testimony, merely saying that she thought him dead. Now, to hear that she had risked her life by protecting Harry, in order to get safely to her son.. well, Draco had to admit his respect for his mother definitely shot up.

         When Potter began testifying for Draco, that was when his brain almost imploded. Here was his greatest enemy, in the perfect position to ensure Draco's downfall, and of course he had to act the bloody Savior! They never once made eye contact, nor did Potter even acknowledge that he was there in the same room. But the words he said with so much conviction... about how he knew Draco so intimately from their schoolyard spats, how he had seen through his taunts and eventually realized the danger he was in when Voldemort had returned... and how Potter had been in the Astronomy Tower with Dumbledore.

         Fuck. _Fuck!_ He was in the fucking tower! Draco immediately thought back to that dreaded memory he had tried in vain to forget. The first feeling that flooded him was shame. Then guilt. Then... what? Annoyance? Anger? The thought that Potter had been there with him after all changed the way he felt about it. Was he relieved that there was at least one person who had seen him drop his wand to Dumbledore, seen that he didn't have the heart after all? Or was he outraged that his enemy had seen him, twice now, in a moment of extreme weakness and failure? His hand subconsciously went to his chest, fingering the scar that was invisible to all but him.

         Narcissa cleared her throat, which made Draco realize that he had been silently seething while his mother watched amusedly. He shook his head imperceptibly and started on the platter that had been waiting in front of him. Breakfast that morning was a wordless affair.

        

***

 

         The woody area behind the Burrow was a perfect place to play a Seeker's Game. After an hour of flying high and low, and showing off to each other with dives and feints, Harry and Ginny had finally landed in a grassy clearing and laid out their shrunken picnic. Ginny clutched the Snitch possessively, proud of having won it from Harry. As if reading her mind, Harry pouted.

         "It's still not fair how you beat me," he accused. "That should have been a foul."

         She winked slyly at him. "I have no idea what you mean, Harry. I won it fair and square and you know it."

         "Distracting me was not a fair play."

         "Distraction is completely legal in Quidditch, as you very well know as former Captain."

         "Not the way you distracted me, and _you_ know it."

         Ginny laughed brightly, and threw her arms around Harry. In a move that was so cheesy yet also superbly satisfying, Harry put his arms around her waist and twirled her in a circle, both of them giggling at the silliness of the gesture.

         They had decided to spend this first day of freedom by going out in the open and enjoying each other's company for the first time without any reporters or stalkers. They were now perfectly safe, with Harry's magical binding extending to whomever he wished for as long as they were close to him. So the Weasleys, and therefore Ginny, along with Hermione, Neville and Luna, would benefit to an extent.

         Now that the path to his future was cleared of Voldemort and the Ministry, Harry fell into thinking of what to do.

         "D'you reckon... d'you reckon we're ready now?"

         Ginny looked at him thoughtfully. "If you mean for a courtship, are you ready?"

         One of the things about Ginny that Harry appreciated was that she was easy to talk with, even with potentially embarrassing emotional topics such as this. She made it seem so easy. Being with her would definitely be a joy, he was sure.

         "I want so much more for us, Gin," Harry whispered. "We can have so much now! Without any of the public scrutiny, without the stupid Ministry in the way, we can finally have a real future together."

         The fond tone in Harry's voice made Ginny smile even more. She kissed his cheek and pulled him into a tight hug. "I want to be with you Harry. But the thing is, will you be able to stand having Ron as your brother?"

         The tension in their conversation melted away completely. Harry grinned. "I've already stuck with him for nearly 8 years. What's another hundred years?"

         Harry was sure his implied message wasn't missed, and he saw the twinkle in Ginny's eye when she looked back up at him. "If it's a price you're willing to pay, then by all means, make it official and be part of our family already!"          They both laughed at that. He was already part of the family, and everything else would just be a formality for the courtship. With that, he and Ginny went back to their picnic and spent the rest of the afternoon joking about stupid courtship presents, excessive engagement parties and what Ron would be like as an uncle.

 

***

 

         Back in his room, Draco brought out a copy of the official announcement for his trial. The words were unbelievable, but they were right there in front of him. And just thinking about it put a small smile on his lips. It was such a different expression from his usual Malfoy smirk, but he couldn't help it - one year seemed a long time, but he knew it would run by quickly if he spent his time wisely.

         The probation itself was not very constricting. He was not allowed to leave the country, or use any spells that could be used as offensive or hurtful to others. He was even allowed to continue brewing potions, for as long as he worked within a prescribed list of legal potions. He could come and go as he pleased around Wizarding Britain, even though he had almost no intention of going out unless needed.

         His mother had been awarded the same stipulations. She could visit others, or have her friends visit her. Her magic was limited, but since she barely used magic outside the mansion, that stipulation only affected her minutely. Their possessions, purchases and interactions were to be closely monitored. They had a curfew, which was even more lenient than the curfew at Hogwarts.

         They had expected to wallow the rest of their lives in a derelict cell and treated like scum. This was no prison to them anymore. It was like an extended private holiday, which he and his mother would spend doing whatever it was they loved. They would get through this.

         There was a dainty knock at the door, and Narcissa entered when Draco acknowledged her presence.

         "You seem to have a clear idea of what to do from this point on," she said gently.

         He nodded.

         "I have decided as well," she continued, much more quietly this time. Draco remained silent, knowing she would explain anyway. "I hope this does not come as a surprise to you, or even a shock. I hope that you will be able to understand my own choices."

         "Mother, what-"

         "I will publicly denounce my connection to Lucius. I will revert back to Black. But also, I will take sole responsibility for the estates should you not take up the mantle as the Malfoy Heir.

         Draco's face reflected horror for a second before he expertly schooled his features back into the Malfoy Mask. He still had no words, though.

         "Are you reneging your marriage to Father?' he asked quietly. Narcissa nodded. Draco took a deep breath, taking a while before letting it out again.

         "I also have plans for you, Draco," she said gently. "I promise not to be as overbearing as your Father in this regard, but for your own future and well-being..."

         "Yes, Mother, I understand." Draco nodded, already knowing where the conversation would eventually end up. "I will trust your judgment."

         Narcissa beamed at her only son, tears in her eyes. "Oh, my dragon, after everything you have been through... I want you to be able to go where you want, and do what you choose. Without the taint of the Malfoy name, I will regain honor and respect as a Black once more, and you..." She looked him in the eye before asking him, "what do you want?"

         Draco thought for a while, and then the answer was clear in his head. He knew what to do, and where to go.

         "There is much left for me to do in order to rehabilitate our family from the mess that Father has carelessly dug us in. But I will not fail. As for the name, I fully intend to keep it and continue the lineage. No offense, Mother, but 'Black' would be such a bland name for me, don't you agree? And anyway, what would this world be without the one and only Draco Malfoy?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In case you were wondering about the characters, I am writing them based on book canon, since I am challenging myself to work within the existing universe to create a realistic but different storyline that is Drarry :D Apart from that, I added a few of my own assumptions based on canon, such as Harry's tendency to feel at fault for everything and his need to have a purpose and be 'useful' because of his childhood with the Dursleys. I also imagine that Draco would have such a strong sense of pride instilled that his main motivation will always to undo what his Father did and make a new name for himself. I hope you guys are enjoying it so far, and thank you for taking the time to read my work!)


	4. Finding Roots

**(Flashback, 1999)**  

            "Again!"

            The trainees groaned but did as they were told, running around the field at full sprint, while the intimidating Auror Philius Stone took notes on their progress. After the lap, the trainees were close to collapsing, and it was obvious that most of them were fighting away the fatigue in order to prove their resilience in the face of such torture.

            Ron's face was completely crimson, and it clashed horribly with his sweat-soaked hair. Of course, Harry didn't look any better, his jet black mop plastered to his forehead and dripping with perspiration.

            "Again! One more lap, boys! Go on, you lazy louts!"

            Harry realized too late that he had had only Quidditch to keep him in shape, and even that depended largely on the make of his broom rather than the fitness level of his own body. With an internal cringe, the brunet decided his endurance would fare better if they had hand to hand combat training - he spent nearly ten years being someone's else's punching bag, after all.

            "Alright," he heard Auror Stone announce, when they all ran back to him. "to the showers, the lot of you. I'll see you back here tomorrow for your Tactical Spells." With a curt nod, the bulky man retreated from the training field and disappeared from their view. Immediately, there was a collective sigh amongst the trainees.

            "Bloody hell!"

            "-can barely breathe-"

            "-probably going to end up killing us-"

            "Bloody fucking hell!"

            Harry and Ron laughed and joked with their co-trainees on the way to the showers. They were a pretty solid bunch, being the first class to take on the Auror training straight after the war. They all shared the burgeoning need to do something, to make the wizarding world a better place to live in. After all, everyone knew that it was after a war that law enforcement was most needed.

            "Hurry up, Ron," Harry called out when he was ready to go. "We'll be late and I don't particularly fancy having bats fly out from my nose in public."

            "With your binding, no one would notice."

            "Yeah, but I would. So c'mon already!" Harry took his training bag and stashed it in his locker. "I'll wait for you outside."

            The training grounds of the Auror Corps took up a sizeable chunk of the Ministry. Being underground like all other Ministry offices, it took a lot of magical infrastructure to create a complex wherein Aurors and Aurors-in-training could hold classes, duels and all sorts of offensive and defensive spellwork. There were even rooms similar to the Room of Requirement, and Harry thought it was brilliant that they could stage mock attacks and create all sorts of possible scenarios that they would eventually face once they were Aurors.

            He leaned against the wall just outside the lockers. His body was exhausted, but he still felt a certain pride knowing that he was already on the way to becoming an Auror.

            He was already "in the future".

            Harry laughed at his own thoughts. He had spent most of his teenage years believing he would die -- and he did! -- and the things that normal people planned for, like graduating and getting a job, were just an abstract concept of "the future" that he had in his head. Now that he was actually halfway to getting a career, it seemed even more surreal than the idea of hunting Horcruxes all around Britain.

            Truth be told, Harry hadn't exactly liked how this career path began in the first place. While he and Ron wanted to be Aurors, and had taken the proper courses as Fifth and Sixth Years, they weren't expecting the Head Auror to personally approach them with an offer.

            Apparently, being touted as heroes had perks, and since Harry had an Order of Merlin, First Class, and Ron and Hermione had Second Class, they were presented with the privilege of furthering their career immediately. It meant that they could bypass the necessary requirements such as N.E.W.T.s and years of experience. The trio, of course, could sense the underhanded attempt of the Ministry to keep them under its influence, as well as bolstering its own popularity with the association.

            It also meant that it was the easy way up, and Harry didn't want that. He wanted to work for it, and he wanted to see how far he could take himself without his Savior persona pulling the strings. He had enough pride in him to want to become an Auror in his own right.

            Hermione had understood his plight, since she herself wanted a career in legislation that she could attribute to her own intellect and perseverance, not her popularity from involvement in the war. In fact, she had flat out refused and entered the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on her own.

            Ron had agreed and applied immediately. Harry, on the other hand, had been torn with his decision for a while. He had realized that without the special privilege, he would have to wait another three years to become a full Auror instead of just one year. He wanted, no, needed to be out there, fighting Dark Wizards and helping those in need. He couldn't stand waiting even a few extra years if it meant being useless.

            The Auror Corps were ecstatic when Harry Potter had agreed, and were very accommodating of Harry's insistent demand for compromise. It took very little for the Ministry to agree to Harry's requests to be included in the formal training of the next incoming class of trainees; to not be treated in a special manner by trainers; and for there to be no bias during evaluations. He wanted no special treatment (even though the Corps had already proactively prepared such special comforts for their Savior). Thus, he was able to begin training as an Auror, with an almost equal footing with his co-trainees. He could live in peace knowing that a big part of his achievements in the Auror Corps were to his own merit.

            Being here, now, in his element, he knew he was right where he was meant to be, and he hoped that his parents were proud of him.

            Finally, he heard Ron leaving the lockers and Harry immediately forgot his unprompted reflections because he noticed the time. "Fuck!" he cried. "You certainly took your time!" They hurried quickly out of the Ministry's Atrium, almost ran into the overlarge Floos, and simultaneously called out, "The Leaky Cauldron!" before vanishing in a puff of green smoke. In their hurry to leave, Ron and Harry didn't notice a pair of grey eyes watching them with curious amusement.

 

***

 

            Dinner that evening was a lively affair. Hermione and Ginny were forgiving despite having waited for the boys, but since the two women had spent the time exchanging stories and sharing their career plans, neither noticed the time.

            Hermione had just gone to the bar to get them a few drinks, so Harry took that moment to interrogate Ron about his proposal, which he had been planning. The redhead, of course, turned red.

            "Er," he said uncomfortably, "Ihaventaskedheryetbutmaybealitlelater"

            "Sorry, mind repeating that?" Ginny asked, unable to decipher Ron's mumblings even till now.

            "I said, I've yet to ask her, alright?" Ron clearly looked like he had swallowed a slug, so Harry did his best to change the subject. Hermione was on her way back anyway.

            "So, Gin," he said, turning to her. "How was training this week?"

            She had just signed up for introductory training into the Holyhead Harpies, and Harry indulged her need to talk about it all of the time because it made him happy to see her so excited about it.

            "It was alright," she said brightly, "I was able to play Chaser in three mock games, and they usually only rotate you once."

            "Sounds brilliant," said Ron, scooting over and making space again for Hermione. "So Mum and Dad are alright with you spending summer on training then?"

            "Well, it did take a while to convince them, but Mum became ecstatic when I mentioned that Gwenog Jones had personally requested my attendance. You know how she is."

            Ron barked out a laugh. "Yeah, Mum is crazy about Women in Power, or something as ridiculous as that. Girls-Run-the-World kind of thing..."

            Hermione and Ginny both sputtered. "Excuse you?" Hermione said, "what do you mean, 'thing'?" at the same time that Ginny asked, "ridiculous?!"

            Ron was bewildered and looked to Harry for assistance. The latter shrugged. "I just meant, you know, like the whole... I dunno... girls-can-do-anything thing?" he finished weakly, knowing he had dug himself a grave. Ginny looked affronted.

            "Ronald Weasley!" Hermione admonished, "if I ever hear you talk about women with a tone like that, as if it's a joke! I swear to Merlin..."

            Harry, who knew Ron well enough to know his habit of letting his mouth run free without thinking, tried to calm her down. "'Mione," he said with a bit of a laugh, "forget about it. He didn't mean any of it. How could he think women in power are a joke when he's dating you?!"

            Hermione blushed. "Fine," she said. "but it's not something you should joke about."

            "You'll offend a lot of people talking like that, Ron," added Ginny. "You should watch it." This time there was a glint in her eye when she looked pointedly at her brother.

            "So," Harry said quickly, turning to Hermione once again. "How is everything at the DMLE?"

 

***

 

            Going to and from the Ministry was beginning to get old. Draco had already accepted this unfortunate event to be part of his routine, but he couldn't help but be exhausted from it. The monthly visits to the DMLE were required by his probation, in order for him to be evaluated repeatedly and ensure that he wasn't up to something sinister. Presently, he had two more months left to his probation, and he was surprised to receive a summons to meet with the Minister himself.

            He knew nothing of Kingsley Shacklebolt, except that he had been an Auror, as well as stuck to Potter like glue. The man would have become a Muggle for Potter. But he was also a formidable person, and someone you wouldn't like to oppose. He was actually the best kind of wizard to become the Minister for Magic. Facing him one on one would be unnerving, Draco was sure. But he had been raised to withstand immense amounts of pressure without breaking a sweat, so he dutifully answered the summons, left a note for his mother, and Flooed straight into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

            Upon his arrival, he coincidentally witnessed a disheveled Potter racing after Weasley and Flooing out in a hurry. He watched with amusement until they vanished, then proceeded on his way to the Minister's office.

            On the long walk up the lifts to Shacklebolt's wing, Draco thought about how much more interesting Potter had become since he called up the _Solum Sanctuarii_ bindings. He knew it had been devised millennia ago by the precedents of the Wizengamot, as a way to protect certain individuals with stations so high that their celebrity constantly put them in danger. He knew enough about magical theory to understand that the invocation was a combination of warding and good old magical law. The magical bindings on Harry would act as personal wards, shielding Harry himself from the outside world. People who wanted to share personal information about him, without his express permission, found that they couldn't. If he so wished, he could go around warding himself so that people wouldn't notice or recognize him unless he wished it. He could even push the bindings outwards to shield other people to an extent. In effect, it was as if Potter was wrapped with a Fidelius Charm around the clock.

            Alongside the warding, there were also the special legal policies to complete the casting of _Solum Sanctuarii._ On one hand, it meant that it was officially illegal to do anything that would be detrimental to or interfering with Potter's personal life. Printing libelous information and using his image without permission were illegal. His properties were considered off limits unless he himself opened them. On the other hand, limitations were also placed on Potter to prevent him from abusing the circumstances of his warding. He was punishable under the law should he use the power of the wards to hurt others, inflict damage or cause disturbances within the magical community. He also had no power over what people said around him or thought about him. Not that anyone would actually verbally insult Potter to his face. Only Draco did that, of course. He would never allow for a moment to pass between them without having the upper hand.

            Draco laughed in disgust at himself. He had admittedly done all that extra research just because he couldn't stand Potter knowing something he didn't. Now he knew unnecessary trivia about the invocation. Like the old legends about _Solum Sanctuarii_ being invoked by someone who believed he had the Elder Wand (Draco shivered) and how the invocation didn't bind with his magic and he got killed anyway. There was also that story of a man whose wives kept being targeted by his enemies, so he called upon _Solum Sanctuarii_ to protect both him and his newest wife. But he had to visit another kingdom, and he was gone so far and for so long that her wards weakened and made her vulnerable to attack once more. Yes, definitely way too much information, but at least he could still one-up Potter from a distance.

            He stepped out of the lift and into the hall that led to the Minister's Office. While walking towards the double doors at the end of the hall, flanked by two uniformed guards, Draco thought about how the Solum Sanctuarii must have changed Potter's life. He wouldn't have all the attention, first of all.

            _All that fame and celebrity, wasted!_ he lamented to himself. _Potter's just thrown it all away while, I will probably need two years or more just to repair the reputation of the Malfoy name, and maybe another year to reintroduce myself into wizarding society and have any semblance of influence with anyone. So much work to do, so little time._

            With a sigh, he went through the doors into Kingsley's office, hoping that this meeting would at least keep his mind away from his drab future, and maybe bring good news for once in his life.

 

***

 

            Harry was settled on the floor, reading through several policy manuals that trainees were supposed to learn by heart. He sorely missed having Hermione's neat handwriting annotating his notes, and Ron's shameless scrawls, doodles and swearing on his books (Harry's, of course, Ron never did write in his own books).

            Dinner had ended just fine after all, with no additional drama. Ron had Apparated Hermione to a flat she was renting, while Harry escorted Ginny to the Leaky Caulron's fireplace, where she promptly Flooed back to her training camp. He then went straight home and began on his study session. That was about four hours ago, and it was getting pretty late, but he insisted on being the best Auror he could be. He had to remind himself repeatedly in the last few months that these weren't just schoolwork, they meant the difference between being an Auror and actually being a good one.

            He gave a start when his fireplace roared, changed color and indicated that he had a Floo call. Waving his hand to allow it, he clambered closer to the hearth, and seeing his best mate's distraught face.

            "Ron!" he exclaimed out of concern. He looked terrible, and the sudden call must have meant that there was a big problem.

            "Hey, mate," Ron said hoarsely. "Er..."

            "What's wrong, Ron? Are you alright? Is Hermione?"

            "Her-Hermione.. she..."

            Harry felt his panic escalate. Had something happened on their way home? Were they attacked?

            "RON! Just spit it out!"

            "She said noooooo!"

            The only sound then were Ron's choking sobs, while Harry took in his words and his panic melted away, replaced by immense sympathy for his mate.

            "Er..." Okay, he honestly had no idea how to do this. "So, er, are you alright then?"

            Ron nodded but continued to choke on his words. "I just thought, y'know? I thought I'd ask tonight, i-it felt right to me, y'know?"

            Harry nodded but remained silent, so that Ron could push himself to continue.

            "I went down on one knee and everything, and I-I think I did okay when I told her-I mean-I'd been practicing, you see..."

            He didn't say anything else for a while and Harry prompted him, wanting Ron to be able to confront it himself. "...and?"

            "Well, there you go!" Ron cried, "she said no! She said no, Harry! She doesn't want me, Ha-Harry!"

            "Hey, hey, just relax," Harry said, slightly going back into panic mode at the sight of Ron breaking down. He knew how much this meant to Ron, but also aware of how much more level-headed Hermione was, and that there was likely more to this than what he got so far. "What exactly did she say?" he asked.

            Ron gulped some more before talking again. "She said- she said we weren't ready, that she wasn't ready at all, and that she had this whole future planned out and stuff..."

            Harry nodded distractedly. Of course Hermione would have a clearcut career plan. He noticed, however, that she never did say 'no'. He pointed it out to Ron.

            Ron blanched. "But she...she said... well, she said she wasn't ready yet, but you're right, she didn't actually tell me no!"            

            "Well, maybe she's just really not there yet, Ron," Harry said, relieved. "Remember, Muggles don't usually marry until they're well into their twenties. Sure in the Wizarding world, we come of age at 17 and build up our careers from then on. But in the Muggle world, it just means more schooling after. So marriage doesn't actually come into the picture for most people until they're about 25."

            Ron evidently didn't know this fact, and his sudden understanding of the entire picture cleared up the pained expression that had been on his face the whole time. He took a shaky breath. "Wow, Harry, I just never thought of it that way."

            "Exactly. 'Mione probably has this list of things that she wants to achieve first. It's not that she doesn't want to marry you, mate, I think she's just doesn't want to now."

            Ron smiled sheepishly. "Well, now that you think about it, I guess I panicked. But yeah, she did say she wasn't ready yet. I shouldn't have bolted- oh Harry sorry mate, I shouldn't have-"

            "Leave it," Harry said firmly. "I needed the break anyway."

            Their eyes met, and via silent communication borne from years of being in trouble together, they agreed never to mention this conversation, ever.

            "Hey, er," Ron's eyes drifted away. "See you tomorrow then, and bring some of those cakes that Kreacher makes, yeah?" he added in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

            "Yeah, alright," Harry grinned.

            "And you should sleep, you look like shit."

            "No cake for you, then."

            "Wanker."

            "Git."

            The Floo connection ended, and Harry went back to his notes. Despite the weight of what had happened, Harry knew both of his best friends well enough and trusted that their relationship would survive this hiccup. Confident that everything was fine, he took one of the manuals, settled himself on the couch, and continued reading as if there had been no interruption at all.

 

***

 

            Draco had tried to keep his mouth closed, like a proper Malfoy should. But his jaw had dropped, and it didn't even matter to him that he was in front of the fucking Minister. He was allowed to be in shock!

            Kingsley smiled, a warm and genuine one that broke Draco's lapse in judgment, and he finally closed his mouth. "Is this really - I mean - really?!" he asked inarticulately.

            "Indeed, Mr. Malfoy," the deep voice said assuringly. "Understand that your mother will continue under her probation to full term. Your case is quite different, you see. You have proven to be quite the 'good boy' over the last ten months, it seemed a shame if your efforts had gone unnoticed. Two more months of probation seem to be redundant given the service you have already rendered while under your sentence."

            His tone clearly told Draco that he was aware of the fact that during his monthly interviews with the Aurors, he was casually consulted regarding cases that revolved around potions and poisons. Draco could hardly call that service, since he welcomed the challenge the Aurors gave him every time they had a new puzzle they couldn't solve on their own.

            "As for the invitation to apprentice in France, well that was a surprise as well, but something that I immediately approved, given your academic records in Potions and your personal endeavors at Malfoy Manor. I hear your brews are of such high quality and up to the standards of even St. Mungo's."

            Draco had no words to that. He had no idea that all of his reports were sent to the Minister himself. They had been simple interviews, which admittedly had grown into a tentative civility with his Aurors, who provided him with interesting conversations in the midst of asking him the routine questions. He thought it was just protocol that he needed to complete throughout his probation, not something that people would actually go through and read! Suddenly he had way too many questions to ask, and no idea how to begin.

            "Sir," he tried. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but... why? I don't understand why the Ministry has been so... involved and... lenient, with my Mother and I. Why is that, sir?"

            At this, Kingsley closed his eyes and placed his chin on his steepled hands. "That is inconsequential information, Mr. Malfoy. Are you not pleased about your early release?"            

            Draco ignored him. "Why, sir?"

            Kingsley gave a sigh. He waved his hand at the Auror by the door, who gave him an odd look, then stepped out and closed the door behind him.

            "Mr. Malfoy, I had been warned against telling you this information. I was not forbidden to do so, however, and I think in this case, it would be better for you to be informed."

            Draco remained silent but stared pointedly at the Minister.

            "I was very doubtful of you and your mother, you see," Kingsley began matter-of-factly. "You of all the Death Eaters were the most in contact with Voldemort. You provided your home as his headquarters. You evaded the opportunities of freedom presented to you. You refused to side with the Light during the War."

            Draco kept his words to himself. He was sick of defending himself anyway.

            "But you see, Mr. Malfoy, my impression of you was greatly challenged by Mr. Potter."

            Draco gaped, then remembered himself and shut his mouth immediately, silently seething.

            "This is why he told me expressly that it was a bad idea to tell you of his involvement at all, he said you would react negatively."

            "I apologize, Minister, I was just taken by surprise," Draco muttered. He had asked for the information, and he would get it. He schooled his expression again and waited for the man to continue.

            "When he heard about your trial, and the likely outcome, Harry came directly to me for an audience with the Minister for Magic. He was.. well, he was aggravated, and he tends to forget that he consciously needs to suppress his core, given that he has more magical power than... well, just take my word for it, an angry Harry is quite intimidating." Kingsley shivered, and Draco wondered if there was more to Potter than he knew after all.

            "Anyway, he thought it was unfair that you were going to have an open hearing. He thought it was only an excuse for officials to humiliate you and get you to react in such a way as to incriminate yourself in public."

            Draco recalled how he and his mother were shocked that they were given a private trial, saving them much embarrassment and making it easier in the long run to rejoin society without much shame.

            "Then of course, he insisted that he be given the chance to testify for both of you. He seemed to think that the witness list was going to be biased against you. More importantly," he looked Draco in the eye, "he seemed so sure that you and your mother would be too proud to plead for your freedom, that your pride would keep you from even saving yourselves with your own testimonies."

            Draco flushed. He had no idea Potter could guess at his possible motivations with such accuracy. Maybe he underestimated him.

            "Mr. Malfoy," Kingsley said, this time with a softer tone, "Mr. Potter spent that meeting telling me everything he knew about you, and your family. Oh, he still hates your Father, naturally, but he was insistent on sharing information about both you and Narcissa, in an effort to convince me of the true extent of your involvement in the war. He therefore provided Pensieve memories-" Draco blanched "-that indeed showed a much different perspective."

            Draco now had the urge to track down Potter, thank him, then promptly punch him in the face. He shuddered at the Muggle-ness of it, but he didn't think even a Cruciatus would ever be as satisfying.

            "Under strict confidence, Mr. Malfoy, he also provided me with Voldemort's memories as well." Draco looked up at the Minister, confused.

            "What do you mean - the Dark Lord's memories?"

            "I will not explain the mechanics, but Mr. Potter had a direct connection with Voldemort, which allowed them to be in each other's mind at times. While obviously an unorthodox way of gathering evidence, well, he gave me some memories of your servitude under Voldemort. Those few memories were the ones that overturned the higher officials of the Wizengamot from their initial judgment of you."

            "Potter used Voldemort's memories... to save us?"

            "Indeed, he did."

            Draco remained silent once again. This was a lot to take in. Kingsley seemed to understand his sudden taciturnity, and so he smoothly changed the topic for Draco's benefit.

            "Do you think your mother will be amenable to you going to France for six months?" he inquired with a lightness in his voice.

            Draco merely nodded.

            "Well then, I do believe that if you sign here, and here, and tap your wand on this seal...."

            Draco did as he was told, feeling dissociated from the moment. So much had changed in his life in just the last hour. France! Potter! He wasn't even paying attention when Kingsley repeated the same actions, sealing the parchment with a tap of his wand. Draco was still in a daze as Kingsley stood up to shake his hand.

            "Well, there you are. Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy, you are now a free wizard."

                         


	5. Building Bridges

**(Flashback, 2000)**

          He'd only been gone for six months, but Draco already felt like a stranger in his own home. In the good way, of course. The time he had spent during his apprenticeship in France had been filled with fresh air, bright sun and a certain liveliness that he now noticed was missing from Malfoy Manor. Upon stepping into the great Entrance Hall, he, for once, felt like he didn't belong. And he took it as a compliment to himself that he now felt like a much better person after being away from his old home.

          "Mother?" he called out uncertainly. He hadn't exactly given her a clue as to when he would be back, as he had wanted to surprise her. Now, he wasn't sure about his original plan. Perhaps she had gone out for the day? Maybe visited a friend of hers?

          A sudden pop in front of him announced the presence of one of his house elves, who immediately bowed low. "Master Draco is back home," it said reverently. "Would Master be wanting to join Lady Black and her guests?"

          Draco was at a loss for words. Perhaps he really should have owled his mother first to avoid such embarrassing situations. He had no desire to interrupt what must be another of her social calls, which he had always hated when he was much younger. Even as a man, there was something about being coddled by his mother's acquaintances that made him feel oddly inadequate.

          "May I know where she is, Tibby?" Draco asked.

          "They is at the Family Sitting Room, sir," the elf replied.

          Draco groaned to himself. Despite the intricate matrix of hidden passageways in the Manor, there was simply no way through to his own suite without passing by the doors of said room. Which meant he either had to Disillusion himself, (which was absolutely ridiculous given that he was in his own home) or just wait until the elf announced the guests had gone (he had never been a patient man). In the end, he decided to casually walk towards his rooms at a brisk walk. He considered doing a quick Notice-Me-Not, but then figured that it was unnecessary given that all he had to do was cross a doorway as quietly and unobtrusively as possible.

          Of course, he failed.

          "Draco, Darling!" he heard an exasperated cry from inside the room, and before he knew it, he was engulfed in an uncharacteristic embrace from Narcissa.

          "Mother!" he huffed, trying in vain to disentangle himself from her affections. "Surely such behavior is unbecoming of a Malfoy!" he chided, the tone of his voice betraying his obvious relief of being reunited with her.

          "Might I remind you that I am no longer a Malfoy," said Narcissa haughtily, but with her eyes twinkling. "I am Lady Black after all, and I will shower my only son with as much affection as I desire, especially since he had decided to come home unannounced after half a year abroad!"

          Draco felt like laughing at his mother's good mood. Freedom suited her, as well as being away from the poisonous world that used to be dominated by the Dark Lord. She looked positively radiant, and Draco almost felt bad about having missed her obvious reintegration into society.

          He made a move towards his suite, but his mother had a firm grasp on his arm, and commandeered him against his will into the sitting room. He almost sputtered when he saw who was there. Immediately, his Malfoy Mask slid into place, and he at once transformed into the well-bred heir who needed to impress everyone who mattered.

          "Lady Greengrass," he bowed low, taking the matron's delicate hand and kissing the air above it. "Daphne," he added, this time bowing towards the woman's daughter. She gave him an impassive look, merely nodding an acknowledgment. Lady Greengrass gave her daughter the evil eye.

          Draco felt no pang of insult, however, despite the obvious snub. He had known Daphne from Hogwarts after all, and they had merely been yearmates in school. Not even a friendship had blossomed over the years, and Draco couldn't care less. He had always gotten along better with Pansy anyway. Daphne had been quite the cold bitch, if he could remember.

          As if the situation hadn't already been awkward, it escalated when Lady Greengrass bluntly announced, "I hope our negotiations do push through, Narcissa." She gave a squawky laugh. "I'm quite sure your son and my daughter would make such a lovely couple!"          

          Upon hearing this, both Draco and Daphne blanched, avoiding each other's gaze. Draco turned instead to his mother, who had an odd look on her face. _Of course! This had to be one of those types of social calls_ , Malfoy thought to himself. _She has probably been brokering a deal for my future wife while I was away! She probably feels guilty that she hadn't warned me at all._

          He wasn't too surprised, of course. All pureblood children (or at least those from their circle) had been raised to expect such negotiations. However, he had been hoping for a much better pairing than with someone like Daphne. He cringed when he realized he would even rather marry Pansy, who was like a sister to him, than the girl in front of him. Sure, she was quite beautiful, but Draco didn't feel a single spark of interest, which made him dread what was surely coming next.

          "Of course," his mother said, true to Draco's fear. She turned to him. "Darling, we've already set a few dates in order for your two to better acquaint yourselves before we think of pursuing anything more serious."

          Draco merely nodded, afraid that his voice might betray his panic if he had spoken his answer. He cleared his throat, then bowed once again to their guests. "If I may," he said as politely as he could while hiding his sneer, "I would like to retire to my suite, as my international Portkey has left me feeling exhausted."

          "Why of course you may be excused, dear boy!" cried Lady Greengrass, as if she was the one who had just taken a long trip Draco nodded, bowed again, then turned and left. As he walked away, he could hear her continue her ramblings. "Such a fine boy, Narcissa, oh! They will have such lovely children..."

 

***

 

          "What do you think?"

          Ginny looked around from where she was standing. Harry had finally decided on the flat he wanted, after tormenting her, Ron and Hermione with his indecision. It had taken him numerous visits and house calls, until he had owled her with a short note that merely said, 'Found it'. As he had expected, her curiosity had been piqued, so she immediately agreed to meet with him for the rest of the afternoon and see the new house for herself.

          "Well?" Harry prompted again. He was slightly nervous since her opinion mattered very much to him. Getting his own place had been a priority, since he didn't fancy living alone just yet in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. When he and Ginny had kids, maybe then they would probably use that as the family home. For now, however, Harry was ecstatic to have a place to call his own.

          This particular flat, located in a Muggle neighborhood but near enough to the Leaky Cauldron, was a perfect choice. The building itself was inconspicuous enough for his tastes, simple yet equipped with more modern Muggle conveniences.

          Ginny's eyes continued to inspect the living room. Harry gave her a short tour around all the rooms. "Three bedrooms, three bathrooms, kitchen with a breakfast nook and dining room, and an office."

          "It's very you," Ginny laughed. "I like it."

          Harry beamed. "I realized that I needed more bedrooms, since Teddy stays with me often enough, and I wanted a spare bedroom for when someone else has to kip here, probably Ron and Hermione."

          "And me?" she raised her eyebrow in a joking manner.

          Harry laughed. "My room."

          "Ugh, I don't even get my own room," Ginny wrinkled her nose, but her tone was playful. Harry pulled her to him and they stood that way for a long while just savoring each other's warmth.

          "It's a bit cold," Ginny pointed out, looking towards the fireplace.

          "Oh, yeah, sorry," Harry said, "it's an electric fireplace, so I'll have to switch it out with magic and then have the Floo Network connect me."

          Ginny nodded. "Other than that, it's perfect, Harry. I'm glad you finally found this place. You were driving us mental, you know."

          "Was I?" Harry asked innocently, pouting his lips in a ridiculous fashion.

          Ginny ignored his puppy dog face, and instead pulled him towards the door. Harry held her back, however. "There's one more thing I forgot to show you! One of the deal breakers of this place."

          He led her to a door off to the right, which led to a stairway. The couple went up the steps to reach another door at the landing. Ginny frowned at Harry, but he just motioned for her to open the door. The sight that greeted her took her breath away.

          They were on the roof of the building. It wasn't supposed to be very high up, since she knew that Harry's floor, the top, was the fourth. But the view in front of of them should have been more appropriate from the twentieth floor of a high rise building. She looked to him with eyes full of wonder. "Harry, what...?"

          "Undetectable Displacement Charm," he answered proudly. "Same family as   the Undetectable Extension Charm, except instead of extending a small space infinitely, I've simply Displaced the roof top upwards by.. a lot of floors." He grinned at her amusement. His eyes took in the late afternoon sky, tinged with pinks and oranges, the unsuspecting Muggles walking to and fro beneath them. "I wanted a space where I could go to, to clear my mind. I've always felt better in the air than on the ground, so I thought of this neat trick. What do you think?"

          "I think it's brilliant!" Ginny said, hugging him from behind. "With your _Solum Sanctuarii_ bindings, this really is perfect."

          Harry nodded, agreeing. "No one can bother us here, Gin, I'll make sure of that. I'll be sure to take care of you for the rest of your life."

          "Well, make sure to feed me, too, I'm starving!" she said, pulling him back towards the door. "I came to you the instant I read your letter, and I haven't had my lunch yet!"

          "I forgot!" Harry cried. "C'mon, there's a cafe downstairs that I'm sure you'll love." He led her back into his flat, and after a quick look around his new place, Harry magically locked the front door behind them, feeling ecstatic that everything seemed to be falling into place.

 

***

 

          "This is really good," Ginny mumbled around her roast beef sandwich. Harry thought it was funny that she could be so informal with table manners, quite like Ron, actually.

          "Yeah, I discovered this place when I visited the flat for the first time." He had grabbed a bite to eat here that day, and found that their deli was to die for. He figured even someone as snobby as Malfoy would fall in love with the chefs here.

          Ginny took another bite, chewing slowly and looking at Harry with a thoughtful look on her face.

          "What?" he asked, alarmed. She was scary when she scrutinized things like that and he had no idea what she was thinking. Especially now that she was scrutinizing _him_.

          "Nothing," she shrugged. "I was just thinking about how great it is that you're finally able to do what you want, when you want to and how you want to. It's so refreshing to see you sure about what you're doing."

          "I'm only just getting used to it, actually." It was true. The initial euphoria from the _Solum Sanctuarii_ had lasted for a few months, and then he had realized that he really was free.

          He had spent the last year doing exactly what he wanted to do, even on a whim. It took a while to get used to, but finally Harry had learned to take control of his life, as well as answer to the consequences of his own actions. He no longer had stalkers or reporters hounding him wherever he went, so he had more time and privacy on his hands to try out some things that he couldn't have done before. He had gone out on a lot of dates with Ginny, gone around the country every week with Ron and Hermione. He had also taken Teddy out a lot to do whatever fun activity the boy could think of. He'd even caught up with his Hogwarts friends, since they no longer had to worry about being overheard, or hounded by the crowd. Some of those activities, he decided to turn into habit, so his quality time with his friends and family had improved quite a lot. It made a big difference, his not having to fear either loss of life or of privacy. And he was very grateful for it.

          Ginny took his hand. "I'm really, truly happy for you."

          "What about you, Gin?" Harry asked sincerely. "Now that I have most of what I want, I really am interested to hear your side."

          "Well..." Ginny thought about it for a bit. "I definitely hope to get out of training with a recommendation to play professionally. It's the least they could do after all the effort I've given."

          Harry already knew that. Ginny had been in the training pool since last year, and got called quite often during the rotations, which meant that her professional future was promising.

          "And then," she continued, "maybe when I get tired of being famous and touring around the world for tourneys, maybe we can have that happily ever after."

          "That sounds like a plan," Harry agreed, grinning. "I'm really proud of your commitment to Quidditch!"

          She swatted him on the forearm. "You could have gone pro, too, you idiot. Youngest Seeker in a century and all."

          "Nah," he shook his head. "I love me a game of schoolyard Quidditch, fighting for the Cup, but it's not something I'd want to do for a career. I really want to-"

          "Save the world?" Ginny supplied. This time, it was Harry's turn to playfully smack her arm.

          "No! I just - I'm glad to be closer to being an Auror. It feels like my life is on track and my purpose is crystal clear. I'm pretty excited about graduating and being inducted into the Corps."

          "Auror Potter," Ginny said, as if she were tasting the words on her lips. "Sounds pretty awesome, if you ask me."

          "It won't be much next to Ginevra Weasley-Potter, star Chaser of the Harpies."

          Ginny shook her head. "Actually, I was thinking of just Ginny Potter..."

          "What? You'd carry my name instead?! You'd do that?! I mean-" Harry was bewildered.

          "Yes, I would," she said, laughing at his reaction. "And relax, Harry, that won't be in a few more years, so we'll have time to iron out the details then."

          "I'm glad you're up for the long engagement, too" he admitted. "Not that I'm scared or anything, it's just that there's so much that we both can do, and I think we'd be happier if we'd done everything we wanted before having a family."

          Ginny shrugged. "A long engagement isn't that big of a deal in our family anyway. Not like in traditional pureblood families where they basically sell you off to the family with the best assets."

          Harry thought that over in his head and smirked. The first thing that came to mind was Malfoy, who, to Harry at least, was the mental epitome of 'Pureblood'. No doubt he was already flaunting his 'assets' and shopping for a wife like Ginny had said. "I'm lucky then," he mused, "it's good that your folks aren't actually considering my assets as a requirement for my courtship."

          "You have perfectly fine assets, Harry," Ginny replied, winking at him. "With or without them, you're already family anyway, we're just doing this to give Mum her chance to cry at my wedding."

          "We should just elope."

          "We could, then she'd hunt us down. Probably kill you."

          "She wouldn't."

          "You're talking about the woman who insisted on a wedding on the eve of Voldemort's take-over of the Minsitry. I think her priorities might be a little muddled."

          Harry chuckled. "Point. Embarrassingly big wedding it is, then."

          "At least we'll be suffering through it together."

         

***

 

          "I heard things did not go well with Daphne."

          Draco avoided his mother's inquisitive stare. "Biggest understatement of the year, that."

          Narcissa pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Draco was sure that she was trying to control her temper.

          "Her family was very amenable to the contract," she told him. "Daphne was the most perfect lady for you, Draco. Whatever could have happened on your acquaintance meeting that ruined such good chances?"

          "There was never a chance, that's why." He paced up and down the study before planting his palms on the desk. "We tried, Mother. I tried. But we spent the entire time half picking on each other's faults and the other half in contemptuous silence. She's too...cold. I'm pretty sure I want a marriage that's at least as warm as yours and Father's had been."

          Narcissa's expression closed off for a second, then warmed again, She really did have quite a warm relationship with Lucius despite being arranged as well. That was up until he had ruined their lives with his mad desire to follow the Dark Lord, but Narcissa was above blaming him for that. Despite denouncing him publicly, she could agree with the desperation he had clung to on the last days of Voldemort's coup. They had gone through that hell together, as husband and wife, both looking out for their son.

          She thought about what Draco had said. She agreed that Daphne had been a bit cool, but she thought Draco could charm the chill from her heart and turn her into the loving wife she could be. Then she shook her head. She was thinking just like her parents had, cold and calculating in brokering a marriage. No, this time she wanted Draco to actually be happy with his betrothed, and Daphne obviously wasn't one to reconsider.

          "Very well, Draco," she smiled. "I shall find someone more... appealing to you." Oh, her Dragon deserved no less, but she sighed resignedly, knowing she had her work cut out for her.

 

***

 

          An owl fluttered into Harry's open window, and he recognized it as one of the Weasleys'. It was pretty late, but he got up anyways in case it was an emergency. Handing out a couple of owl treats, he took the piece of parchment and read it in the firelight. Suddenly, he gave a loud whoop and pumped his fist in the air, startling the owl. He apologized to the bird, then hastily scribbled out a reply, attaching it to the owl's leg and sending him off into the night.

          He went back to bed, the book he had been reading left forgotten. With a huge grin, he thought about Ron's messily excited scrawl.

_SHE SAID YES!!!_

          He couldn't help but feel a happy flutter in the pit of his stomach. _After all these years_ , he thought sleepily, _those two have finally realized how inevitable it was._ With that last thought, he settled into his pillow, the smile on his face only fading slightly as he finally slipped into dreams.

 

***

 

         

          Flourish & Blotts always held the promise of fresh new Potions manuals for Draco, so he usually went there when he needed a distraction from his thoughts. Having been back for only a couple of months was enough time to give him a headache, and he decided that a quick visit to the book shop was in order.

          The girl at the till recognized him, despite his being absent for the last half year. She immediately flicked her wand, casting what Draco already knew to be a special Summoning Charm. Within seconds, a small mountain of books had assembled themselves on the nearest table for Draco's perusal. The service never failed to impress him, and he gave her a quick nod before burying his nose in the topmost tome.

          In the end, he chose six of those books and stood in line to pay for them. As he struggled to balance the books in one arm to reach into his pocket for his money bag, a careless elbow nudged into him, causing the top two of his books to fall in a heap in the floor.

          Draco glared at the owner of the guilty elbow, a man of nondescript looks who leered at him before stepping out of the shop. Huffing under his breath about allowing people into bookstores when they didn't look like they could even read, he awkwardly tried to use his wand to levitate the books back up. Before he could, however, delicate hands had already picked them up for him. He turned to thank her, but gasped when he saw her face.

          She was beautiful in an offhanded way, as if she woke up not knowing how she looked and just went about her day not caring about it. She looked familiar, but he couldn't place her features. She had a graceful and lithe form, which was why she had been able to smoothly pick up Draco's books and deposit them in a fluid motion.

          Being a Malfoy, he immediately went for aloof and detached. "Thank you, miss," he said curtly, "seeing that other people hadn't been well-read enough to understand basic etiquette.." His eyes turned to the door through which the man had disappeared, then back at the woman. "You have my gratitude," he said with a slight bow, expecting a curt acknowledgment to the end of the conversation.

          He was mistaken, however. "Apparently, my gratitude should be given instead," she said, voice low and smooth like dark chocolate. "You seem to have a copy of the book that I've been meaning to look for."

          He glanced in surprise at her earnest look. He followed her gaze to the topmost book, 'Chambert Screte's Advanced Botany for Potioneers'. He raised his eyebrow in curiosity, which made her blush but answer defensively.

          "I like Botany. I brew my own tea leaves from our garden," she said, her eyes defiant.

          "I apologize, miss," Draco said immediately, not realizing that he had put her on the defensive. "Not many people have interest in such books, and I was just a tad surprised. You do not look like someone who would even look at a Potions manual, let alone be interested in purchasing it."

          "I am allowed to have a vested interest regardless of whether I am a Potions master or not."

          "Of course," Draco answered. It was his turn at the till, and he excused himself to pay for his books. When he had been given his change, he turned back to the lady, only to find that she had gone. With a frown, he looked around, but realized that she must have left the shop.

          "She's usually here," the shop assistant said conversationally. "Comes by often enough to be remembered by the assistants here."

          Draco looked down at the book in his hand. They hadn't even exchanged names. How rude of him not to have asked in the first place! As he shrank his new purchases and slipped them into his pocket, he met the eyes of the girl at the till, who for some reason saw an unspoken question in his gaze.

          "Astoria. Her name is Astoria Greengrass."

         

         

 


	6. Choices and Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! :) Real life got in the way a bit, but I couldn't not write haha. Thanks for the comments, I appreciate it when someone takes the time to read and THEN leave a comment :) 
> 
> Anyway, just to clear up chronology. The events are happening in proper chronological order, arranged by year, but not spaced out in a regular way. For example, different sections within a chapter could be just minutes apart, or a few days, or a few months. I usually try to make it clear within the transitions, but feel free to point out if ever you are confused. I wanted my fic to jump through both small and large chunks of time to show the way the characters develop.

**(Flashback, 2000)**

          He couldn't get her out of his mind. Her eyes, her smile, her defiant expression that played upon her beauty in a mesmerizing way.

          _Astoria._

          Draco groaned. He had never felt more lost than he did now, having met someone with whom he could verbally spar with, someone he could see as his equal, only to lose them right after. (There was always Potter, of course, but he didn't want to think about _that_ right now. It was _hardly_ the same thing.)

          That morning found the Malfoy heir pacing back and forth in his mother's private sitting room. Narcissa had long given up on distracting him from his thoughts. Draco knew that his restlessness was cause for her concern, but he also knew that she remained passive in order to allow him to address her first.

          "I don't want Daphne," he suddenly said loudly.

          "Yes, I think we've established that," Narcissa drawled.

          "I want Astoria."

          The Lady Black's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Astoria?"

          Draco nodded. "I believe she is the younger Greengrass. We never met at Hogwarts, but she was a couple of years below."

          It seemed as if Narcissa needed more time to process her son's words, unexpected as they were. She sniffed. "I must say, I am quite shocked at your sudden insistence, given the awful experience with Daphne. I've even begun a new list of young socialites whose personalities seem to suit yours more. Apparently there is no longer need for me to continue the search. Although," she paused, causing Draco to look up at her inquisitive tone. "May I ask how your uncharacteristically rash decision came to be?"

          Draco told her all about the chance meeting at Flourish and Blotts, and with a slight flush, related to her his frustrations at not being able to make an impression on her before she had disappeared. He saw her eyes soften as his story unfolded, and that was when he knew that his own face had betrayed his emotions, his desperate need to find Astoria.

          "I will owl Lady Greengrass immediately," she finally said. "Perhaps this match is what we have been waiting for."

          "Do not fret, Mother," Draco assured her with a hint of is trademark smugness. "I intend to be highly involved in this particular endeavor."

 

***

 

          Astoria's owl perched itself on the edge of Draco's desk, holding out the crisp envelope still attached to its leg. Draco stood unmoving, slightly apprehensive at the possible contents of the letter. Of course, he had been confident that his actions would capture Astoria's attention favorably, but he could not help but feel vulnerable due to the bit of insecurity he had developed from failing both his father and the Dark Lord. At the last moment, he finally steeled his resolve, took the letter and scanned it quickly, his smile growing wider as he read.

 

          _Mr. Malfoy,_

_Imagine my surprise when I awoke this morning to an embarrassing display of blossoms covering every inch of our sitting room. My mother and sister were all over the extravagant bouquets, but I would have you know that my interest had fallen largely on an ostentatiously wrapped book addressed to me. At least now I can put a name to the mysterious wizard I had encountered at Flourish and Blotts._

_If there is one thing I am sure of, it is that you are quite alarmingly determined, as has been proven by your rather subtle approach at acknowledging my love of botany. I must admit that I have repeatedly spurned the attentions of prior suitors due to their fickle nature. I must say, though we have only met once, you have left quite an impression on me._

_I have informed my mother to reconsider negotiations with your family, despite the inconvenience with my sister. I am particularly curious as to where we might end up should we pursue this courtship._

_While I assume you had never noticed me in Hogwarts, I remember you quite well, which only encourages me to await every opportunity to wipe that smug expression off your face. As you may well be aware judging by your gifts, courting is never an easy task, and I do not intend to spare you the difficulty of winning my hand in marriage. But I imagine you shan't have too much trouble with that, given who you are. I expect nothing less._

_Astoria Greengrass_

With a bounce in his step, Draco took the shortcut to the library, intent on showing his mother the proof of his success. _Brilliant,_ he thought _,_ grinning in spite of himself, _things are definitely looking up._

 

***

 

          "I made it! I made it! I made it!" Harry shook his head, laughing at Ginny's childlike exuberance. She had just ended a Floo call with one of the team managers of the Harpies, and was now brandishing her good news with a joyous display of shouting and jumping all around the sitting room.

          While he had intended that night to be memorable in other ways, Harry thought this particular development could actually help him out. Now that Ginny was in higher spirits (which he knew would last for at least a week), he thought it a good time for his 'big plan'. Which, of course, made him suddenly nervous.

          "Gin," he prompted. She brought herself down by a notch to give him her attention. "C'mon to the roof, you might be able to celebrate more properly there."

          Ginny laughed and nodded, running ahead of him to the upper level. As Harry had expected, her mood instantly became better outdoors, high up in the sky, just like his did. While he always sought his solitude and quiet focus up there, he had realized a while back that it was different for Ginny, that it represented a certain sense of openness and carefree abandon for her. She let out scream after scream, relieving all of the pent up pressure that she had kept over the last few months, while hoping to get into the team. Harry knew how much she had kept herself in check around him, and he was glad that his rooftop could help her with that. Definitely one of his better life choices.

          When he felt that she had let out most of her excitement to the sky, he sat down on one of the lounges he had there, and beckoned her.

          "I've been thinking," he said carefully. It seemed Ginny recognized his serious tone, and sat down with him, all ears. "You know, all this time, with the warding and all..." Merlin, why did he think he could even do this? "What I mean is, we've enjoyed this amazing privacy for almost two years now, and-and.."

          He couldn't seem to decide on his words, but he could tell that Ginny was trying to defuse his nerves by smiling encouragingly at him and gently taking his hand in hers.

          "Well, what I want to say is that... I love the privacy, but I would also love for the whole world to know how much I.. er, well, for them to know about us."

          "Oh, Harry," Ginny breathed. He knew that _she_ knew how much he craved the privacy that S _olum Sanctuarii_ gave them, but she had joked many times throughout their relationship about going public and showing the world what they had together. Sure, they enjoyed going out more often than either thought possible, and were able to avoid any unwanted attention. But Harry learned that part of being happy in a relationship was the acknowledgement. Knowing that others knew of your love. He didn't want Ginny to feel taken for granted, kept like a dirty secret when she obviously wanted and deserved more than that.

          Sure, it had taken time, but Harry had finally realized that he, too, wanted the world to know how happy he was with Ginny. Like now, with the fantastic news about her being invited officially into the Harpies; it filled him with so much pride for her accomplishments, and he wanted to make sure everyone knew it. He wanted it known that he loved her and was proud of her.

          "I think it's high time that the Prophet reported about something that makes me happy, instead of all the horrible stuff from before."

          Ginny's eyes filled with tears, but Harry knew they were for joy. Ginny never cried when she was sad, but oddly enough, she did when she was extremely happy and couldn't believe her own luck. His sudden proposition warranted such tears, and Harry brushed his lips on her forehead.

          "Are you sure?" she asked, still unable to process so many major changes in her life in such a short time. "

          Harry shrugged his shoulders before hugging her tightly. "I can control the extent of the wards around us. All that'll change is us actually giving permission. Like personal information. Maybe even photos."

          "This'll spread around like Fiendfyre, you know that right?" she eyed him skeptically.

          "Wouldn't expect anything less from the wizarding world," Harry grinned. "At least it'll be something good this time. None of that shite Skeeter got from the Slytherins."

          "Dating a high profile celebrity is such a chore sometimes," she lamented dramatically. "All that practice answering the age old question of 'what's it like being a nobody dating somebody famous?'"

          Harry knew she was back to teasing him, so he took his chance to turn the tables around. "Well, I'll tell them it's no big deal."

          "How would you know?" she harrumphed.

          " _Obviously_ , dating a super-awesome-mega-foxy-hot Quidditch star is quite the experience, what with all that fame and glory." He poked the tip of her nose playfully. "But I'll tell them that none of that unwanted attention matters at the end of the day because this boring old Auror gets to take her home every night for the rest of his life."

          Ginny's grin widened. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

          Harry only smirked, trapping her in his arms and moving closer so there was barely a hair's breadth between their lips. "Tell me that after I'm done with you."

 

***

 

          It took Harry and Ginny another couple months to settle into their new routine as a long distance couple (Ginny always stayed over on weekends but had to remain with the team for the rest of the week, due to the intense training regimen).

          Several weeks after they felt comfortable with the changes, Harry made a specific change to the wards, making their relationship 'available' to the public once again, to an extent.

          That particular day, they had gone to have a Saturday brunch at one of their favorite restaurants. They were quite familiar with the owners, who had been given the privilege of being invited into the Solum Sanctuarii ward when Harry deemed that they could be trusted. Of course, Mr. Prishna and his wife Anazka couldn't have shared the information anyway, but they stayed true to their word, honoring the trust and keeping mum despite knowing of Harry and Ginny's private life. Today was bound to be different, however.

          As Harry and Ginny dug into their food, one of the patrons looked in their direction and gasped with recognition. As expected, the rest of the room followed suit, with men, women and children laying eyes on the Chosen One and his companion. Harry and Ginny remained oblivious to the attention, focusing instead on the funny story that Ginny was sharing as Harry took another bite of his meal. One man stood up and left abruptly.

          It only took a half hour after that, and then the Breaking News Special Edition Prophet could be seen everywhere, detailing how one of the staff writers had personally witnessed the Savior of the WIzarding World with Ginevra Weasley. No photos, of course, but that was that. People couldn't stop talking about Harry and Ginny, Harry with Ginny, and Harry dating Ginny.

          And for once, Harry didn't give a damn.

 

***

 

          The fact that Potter and the Weaselette were an item was news for several months. It never seemed to get old, and people were thirsty for any kind of news about their reclusive hero. Draco unfolded today's edition of the Prophet, and he already expected at least one feature about the Chosen Couple. It was inevitable after the limited ward release.

          To be frank, it all interested him because of the magic. He had already known that Potter and Weasley had had some sort of a relationship after the war. However, the actual fact had never come to mind in recent years until now, so Draco knew that it was because of the _Solum Sanctuarii_. His interest in Magical Theory won out, and he spent some time trying to break down how he himself was affected by the invocation on Potter. Granted, since they were something more than acquaintances, but less than friends, he probably figured above the general public in Potter's eyes, and therefore received less of the generalized compulsion not to notice them when they desired extra privacy. That would explain why he could see and recognize Potter and Girl-Weasley, even exchanging a greeting or two. He just never thought of them as a couple, or even gave it a thought, which, now that that particular ward had been lifted, he thought was odd for an information-starved Slytherin like himself. He would have filed it away in his mind, if only to pull it out later for leverage. It was just something he had been taught, and that he had retained.

          He began to read the Prophet's front headline, and his lip curved up into half a smirk. Despite the call for more Potter news, the fickle public had decided to shed the spotlight on the most anticipated engagement of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass.

          It had taken months of toil, of winning her with the right kind of thoughtful gifts, of exchanging witty banter. Of lowering his pride sometimes, of impressing her family, and gaining her trust. More importantly, it took most of that time to properly negotiate the possible future with her, to ensure that they both had a clear goal in mind. If they were to be allies, as was the desired point of view amongst traditional purebloods, they needed to establish their connection and project it into the future. The strongest marriages were the ones that developed from a steadfast alliance and grew into a deeper understanding. Draco saw that in his parents when he was young, and he desired it for himself.

          Anyway, he already felt enamoured of Astoria's soft beauty and sharp intellect. He found in her a sparring mate and an ally, and knew that she could take as much as he could give, and give as good as she got. She had a fire in her that burned Draco to his soul.. and had just enough grace to make him feel that he had a soul at all. She would definitely make a great mother, and Draco felt the anticipation of having an heir of his own. She was definitely the one for him, and he made sure the public knew it.

          They were sort of a celebrated couple now due to his somewhat successful rehabilitation of the Malfoy name. Little by little, over the last year, he had made sure to put himself in a good light wherever he went. When his apprenticeship in France became known, the wizarding public seemed to respect him more until he was no longer the ex-Death Eater, but a soon-to-be Potions Master. With Astoria in tow, they graced many parties and balls, showing a united front as if to make a statement. Which, of course they were.

          After finishing the paper, he sighed and sat back onto the couch. With the engagement finalized, he and his betrothed had much to do in the way of planning, and he wasn't eager to get entangled in it. Thankfully, they both agreed that they needed to focus on their own plans before marriage, and decided that two years was sufficient time for that. After all, Draco still had to go back to France for another year to start training for his Potions Mastery. Meanwhile, Astoria was still a busy socialite, and wished to make rounds in Europe in order to build rapport with neighboring wizarding circles. Draco hadn't minded in the slightest; in fact, he applauded her for her understanding of personal ambition, something he had hoped to find in his future wife.

          Ambition was important to him. The way he went at it now was very different from his father's teachings, but his way had yielded more favorable results. The family name had almost completely been cleared socially. Draco and Astoria's engagement was publicly praised and anticipated. Narcissa was accepted as Lady Black, and had once again become the respected hostess who threw the best galas. He himself was on the way to an honorable career. He had so many more plans, so much more in his repertoire, and he didn't intend to slow down in the near future. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

          Malfoys never backed down from a challenge, and damn it al to hell if he even thought of giving up when he was so close, so close, to finally making a name for himself.

         

         

 

         

         

 


	7. Snippets and Sayings

 

**_Gains, Losses, and a Star Chaser Break Records at the 2001 Quidditch League_ **

          This year's subcontinental Quidditch tournament has gotten all fans up in a tizzy with the unexpected results. This writer is willing to bet all her entire month's Galleons that at least two thirds of the entire magical community in Britain have lost a fortune betting against the Holyhead Harpies, who have surprisingly finished the tournament with an impressive list of overall records above any other team.

          The all-woman team, notorious for its past failures to gain enough head speed to make it to the finals, has baffled witches and wizards alike with their spectacular record of saves and a marvelously long run of goals, both of which has brought them to the very top of the 2001 Best Of Quidditch statistics.

          Harpies' Keeper Goberta Fier, 28, has been a consistent player on the team, and has been the only one to compensate for their weak Chasing. As we may recall from the particularly humiliating loss of 40-170 to the Tornadoes last year, her Keeping skills had been the only reason the Tornadoes scored only twice, before they managed to catch the Snitch in desperation. Manager Odair O'Finnicks was right in his once-contested decision to maintain her as Keeper on the team for the last 8 years. Her new record of 22 successful saves in a row has marked her down as one half of the driving force behind the Harpies' successful run

          The other half, of course, is rookie Ginny Weasley, whom everyone predicted to be this year's weakest link. Having been recruited to play on the starting seven after only two months in junior training, many fans were doubtful of her skill, claiming instead that her high profile relationship with Harry Potter was the only cause for her immediate acceptance into the team. Granted, that particular accusation was what brought about the sudden rush to bid against the Harpies in the first place. After the great financial losses all around, of course, hers is the name on everyone's lips.

          Weasley, turning 20, is obviously the youngest player in the entire 2001 roster, but has nevertheless impressed even her most hateful hecklers with an amazing record of 26 successful goals out of the 29 that the Harpies scored in all, and in her first professional match at that. Interviews with the team confirm that she has put in the same amount of hard-work and commitment in her training. O'Finnicks was quick to add, "This has absolutely nothing to do with her private relationships. Weasley has always been a marvelous Chaser, and her record speaks for itself. Don't even attempt to mention anything about Harry Potter pulling strings, unless you want a noseful of bats in your face."

          With that ominous reminder, it seems we should all keep tabs on Ms. Weasley, as she might well prove to be what the Harpies need to stay at the top.

          Finishing at the bottom, to the surprise of everyone, were NOT the Chudley Cannons, but the Falmouth Falcons, who had lived up to their team's brawling history by losing most of their matches via unprovoked physical attacks. Unfortunately, this warranted an even greater financial loss across the country as it has been a national habit to bet on the Cannons bottoming out for the last forty years or so.

 

***

 

**_Society Feature: The New Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy_ **

          After two long years of the wizarding world fidgeting in anticipation, socialites Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass have finally completed their contract and tied the knot.

          Their grandiose wedding was attended by almost everyone important and well-to-do in Wizarding Britain, as well as several international delegates from the Continent. Several guests of high profile were also invited, including, to the shock of many, the group once touted as "Dumbledore's Army", and even Auror Harry Potter himself. Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt and his wife were present as guests of honor, seated with the lovely Lady Narcissa Black.

          The beautiful couple, who will continue to reside in the family Manor at Wiltshire, have had an unusual history, which had all eyes on them since the announcement of their courtship in 2000. Their curiously long engagement, which is not expected or practiced within traditional wizarding families, drew in the interest of the public. With both being part of the Sacred Twenty Eight (which of course, is considered now as nothing more than an outdated chapter of wizarding history), their highly publicized story has become the model of the successful renaissance of the old Pureblood customs in today's restructured society.

          The new Mrs. Malfoy was adamant on making their relationship very accessible to the public, and she may be somewhat credited with bringing Draco Malfoy into the spotlight after his low-key life post-war. During their courtship, we were all whisked on their romantic adventure around Europe, and we were privy to the littlest details of their lives. Throughout their long engagement, we observed the support they had for each other, as they pursued their respective ambitions. Now considered one of the most photographed witches in modern times, Astoria Malfoy has made it clear that she has her sights set on Continental Europe and wishes to establish better international relations with foreign societies in order to broaden the presence of the British community beyond our borders. She has already been successful in organizing the most ambitiously far-reaching galas the country has ever known, earning herself attention not only here but also abroad. Of course, her successes are nothing compared to those of her husband's.

          Breaking expectations by his very popularity, Draco Malfoy has proven to be more than his family history and has in the last years reestablished himself as one of the most respected professionals in the country, (not to mention being elected several times as Most Desired Wizard in Witch Weekly.) Originally expected to languish amongst the former followers of You-Know-Who, he has instead made a name for himself and gone out of his way to break the prejudice that was bound to be against him. Now he is back in the limelight, sharing easy conversation with political dignitaries and in the good graces of his former school adversaries. It has not escaped the attention of this reporter that his relationship with Auror Potter has been pleasantly civil. This very observation can be taken as proof enough that Draco Malfoy has indeed changed for the better.

          In light of his efforts to prove himself despite his darker past, rumours have spread that even the Minister himself has forged a working relationship with the Malfoy Heir. As reported before, Mr. Malfoy is an accomplished Potions Master, with an exceptional academic and professional record in France. This highly determined Prophet correspondent can confirm that the Ministry has in fact secured Mr. Malfoy's professional services, though the specific area or department is still being kept confidential. In any case, this is groundbreaking for the Malfoy family, and it is obvious that despite the previous collective scorn for their names, the new husband and wife have proven to be new favorite stars of Wizarding Society. The Daily Prophet offers our congratulations to the happy couple, and are looking forward to covering the upcoming Society Ball to be held at Malfoy Manor next month.

 

***

 

 ** _Daily Prophet Exclusive: A Personal Interview with Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger_**  

          The Golden Trio, or so they have been fondly called by the Wizarding world, have been up and about, forging their own paths after their less-than-normal school days. It has been almost four years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and it pleases this reporter to share news of a much brighter and happier nature about our favorite heroes. After being given clearance for a very short interview (which Mr. Potter has been so generous to provide), and armed with the new and improved Quick-Qualifiable-Quotes Quill, the Daily Prophet now brings you a much-awaited glimpse into their highly private lives.

 **DP** : Thank you for having us in your home, Mr. Weasley. (muttered exchange of pleasantries). So, the first thing our readers want to know is, how are you? It's been quite a while since we've really heard news about the three of you since Mr. Potter's well-earned call for privacy, so naturally we are very curious. Let's start with you, Mr. Weasley. How has your career been?

 **RW** : Well, it's been quite amazing. Harry and I basically jumped into the Auror Corps straight after the war, and we did our training for about a year and a half. You'd think after winning a war that it would be a quick cleanup, but no, we've actually had to work hard tracking down some nutters who claimed to be working under Voldemort.

 **DP** : (gulps)

 **HG** : Please, all three of us are quite comfortable saying the name, so you might as well get used to it.

 **DP** : Yes, alright, that might need discussing with our editor, but I'll run it by her. Anyway, Mr. Weasley, another question. How are the rest of your family? We notice that this home, this burrow-

 **HG** : It's the "Burrow" actually. Proper noun.

 **DP** : (writing notes) Yes, thank you, Ms. Granger. Is it just you now, staying here at the Burrow?

 **RW** : Actually, it's me most of the time. Mum and Dad have been living in France for a bit, you know, helping out my brother and his wife, helping to raise the children. There's two, there's Victoire and Louis.

 **DP** : That's wonderful news. I'm sure with all of you grown up, there was a need for them to help out with the grandchildren.

 **RW** : Yes, exactly.

 **DP** : What about your other siblings?

 **RW** : Well, George stays at the shop in Diagon Alley, or sometimes he stays at the one in Hogsmeade. Percy's got a flat somewhere in London. Charlie decided to go back to Romania, says he's a man of habit and doesn't like change much. Ginny stays over more at (incoherent language)

 **DP** : Yes?

 **RW** : (incoherent language)

 **DP** : I'm sorry?

 **RW** : Oh my bad. (rolls eyes at HP) I meant to say, she's been travelling around with the Holyhead Harpies, you know, she's training for the National team and everything, so they've got her working day and night. She practically lives with them, so you can barely catch her here.

 **HP** : (chuckles)

 **DP** : Speaking of Ms. Weasley, may I ask a few questions, Mr. Potter?

 **HP** : That's what you're here for anyway.

 **DP** : Thank you. Speaking of Ms. Weasley, how is your relationship? What is it really like for someone quite ordinary to be dating a person of immense fame and celebrity?

 **HP** : (chuckles again) Well, obviously it's a bit hard, but we get by.

 **DP** : How so?

 **HP** : Well, I know she's all famous and stuff now, travelling around the world and giving out autographs and meeting fans, making a mark on those Quidditch records. But at the end of the day, it's just her and boring old me, **and we get by alright.**

 **DP** : Oh, but, that's not, I meant, er- (fumbles)

 **HP** : (laughs) You asked, I answered. Next question?

 **DP** : Er... I'm hoping this qualifies within your privacy allocation, but our readers wish to ask more about your relationship to Ms. Weasley.

 **HP** : All I'll say is that we've been together a while, and we intend to stay together. That's all anyone really needs to know, anyway. Again, next question?

 **DP** : (flips confusedly through notes) Oh, er- yes - here's another one. How are you dealing with your recent promotion in the Auror Corps?

 **HP** : Well, it was a bit of a shock at first-

 **RW** : Only to him, he means. We all knew it was coming-

 **HP** : Shut up, Ron. Anyway, I was a bit surprised, but then I figured that it was another chance for me to do even more, to be more involved with the important cases.

 **DP** : Is it true that the Minister created a separate department for you?

 **HP** : Yes, the Office of Malicious Magical Intent.

 **DP** : (writes notes) And he just thought of offering you a new office out of nowhere?

 **HP** : No, of course, not. It wasn't like it was a favor. I presented him with all the facts, made the proposal and everything. I just made him see the need for such a department.

 **DP** : I see. And what exactly does your department specialize in?

 **HP** : Basically, we focus on the more on the psychological side of crime-"

 **DP** : I'm sorry, what was that word again? Sigh-?

 **HP** : Sorry, think of it like... well basically we gather information about criminals, their background, their motivations behind curses, basically looking into their head. So while the other departments in the Auror Corps focus on material such as evidence, witnesses, spell damage... the MMI looks into the how and why, so we can figure out much more about the criminal, and the case as well.

 **DP** : And how does that help, exactly?

 **HP** : When you try to learn about your enemies, when you try to see why and how they did what they did, or why they think that way, you understand them much more. Because of that, it becomes possible to arrange more proactive measures in security, track down accomplices, or even prevent the crimes they've already planned. The Aurors in my office learn what to expect from the dark wizard, how he uses his magic, and we get to use that information against him.

 **DP** : That's a very different style of law enforcement, I notice.

 **HP** : Yes, exactly. The previous system was seriously lacking. It all just focused on material evidence, and we all know how that can easily be tampered with. There was so much bias. I saw it happen many times when I was young. I-In my fourth year, the man who had Polyjuiced into Alastor Moody, he tricked me and almost got me killed. We heard his entire plan under Veritaserum, and there was so much information there. He'd had this entirely shocking history, he had so many plans going on that no one even knew about. He could have provided helpful info to the Ministry even in prison, we could have used it to fill in missing blanks about the rise of Voldemort, and the Death Eaters. But Fudge just brought in a Dementor, there wasn't even a trial, and he was Kissed. Just like that.

 **DP** : That's horrible. This wasn't on the news, was it?

 **HP** : No, it wasn't. And neither was the information about Sirius Black. (clenches fists) In his case, there were witnesses, and there was Pettigrew's finger for evidence. No one even thought to look further, no one focused on hearing out Sirius' story. He was just dismissed and carted off to Azkaban. If the Aurors then had questioned Sirius more thoroughly, they would have understood the real intent, the betrayal of Pettigrew, and the innocence of my godfather.

 **HG** : Your wards, Harry-

 **HP** : I brought them down for this. People should know.

 **HG** : (nods)

 **DP** : And this new approach of yours, has it worked successfully, in practice?

 **HP** : It's how I defeated Voldemort.

 **DP** : (drops parchments) That- what?

 **HP** : I won't go into detail. But it was the one thing Dumbledore taught me, to understand an enemy. That's how I defeated Tom Riddle. I think that's enough answers from me for now. I'm sure you have other things you want to ask about.

 **DP** : (flustered) Y-yes Mr. Potter. (rifles through notes) Ms. Granger, our readers also have a lot of questions for you. I'm not sure if you are aware, but a large number of your fans are young women who admire you for being a role model.

 **HG** : (fixes hair) Oh, well, thank you very much. I had no idea, but that's - wow, I hope I've done alright by them.

 **DP** : Most of them have the same question. (laughs) How have you kept your head being the only female in your group?

 **HG** : (laughs) I take it that wasn't a serious question?

 **DP** : Oh but it's one of our most common. Everyone knows of your intellect and work ethic. You, along with Ms Weasley and Ms. Lovegood, are looked up to by young girls everywhere because you all represent to them what they can achieve against all odds.

 **HG** : Well, I did have some help from Ron and Harry-

 **RW** : Some?!

 **HP** : (laughs) We would've been lost without Hermione telling us what to do all these years.

 **RW** : (shrugs)

 **DP** : Another thing that begs questioning is your choice of career, considering your upcoming wedding.

 **HG** : Yes, that's right. Ron and I have decided to marry before winter.

 **RW** : (nods and grins)

 **DP** : And yet you still accepted the position as a Legal Consultant at the Minister's Office, in addition to your current rank within the Legislative Council of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

 **HG** : Ron and I have no qualms about such matters. He understands my personal need to focus on the law, and it's not really a big deal between us, to be honest.

 **DP** : Mr. Weasley, do you think this will affect your future marriage in any way?

 **RW** : Nah, I don't think so, not really. I mean, it's Hermione we're talking about. She wouldn't be herself if she didn't get all into her job. It's just like SPEW all over, it's just who she is, and that's what makes her amazing.

 **DP** : Sorry, but did you just say spew?

 **RW** : And anyway, our schedules will fit quite nicely. I mean, working under Harry's department takes up just as much concentration and time as both her jobs put together, so it's not like we're missing out on something. Maybe when we get kids-

 **HG** : In the future-

 **RW** : -in a year or two, maybe. Then we'll probably adjust. That's all.

 **DP** : Well, my congratulations to you both. We hope to bear witness to your bonding ceremony. Surely the readers would love to read about the affair straight from the source.

 **HG** : We're keeping it small and private, just with family and some friends. But perhaps another interview.

 **DP** : That's as good as gold. Well, that’s pretty much it, our time is up anyway. Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, thank you very much for your time. Our readers will be grateful for this rare opportunity.

 **HG** : You're welcome.

 **HP** : It's no problem at all.

 **RW** : (shakes hands) It was great, thanks.

          There you have it, folks. Our three young heroes, still on their way to changing the world, albeit in different ways. My hour at the Burrow was a pleasant opportunity, and more than enough for me to gain a new and deeper understanding of the Trio. It seems obvious that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger will soon become the model of a perfectly new breed of family, with the healthy and playful relationship dynamic that they clearly have. And it warms my heart to learn of Harry Potter's continuous crusade against the Dark, showing us that he really is a true Savior at heart. behind his wall of privacy. Perhaps they will grant us another peek into their private lives, but that might be a while. It did, of course, take almost four years to be granted this highly personal interview. But until then, we may honor our own heroes by wishing them well on their way towards the bright futures ahead of them.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. New Perspectives

**(Flashback, 2004)**  

           Most times, Harry felt his flat was his only true sanctuary. His rooftop brought him solace and comfort. Now it felt like there was no space that could ever allow him to escape, not even for a little peace of mind. It was as if his thoughts buzzed in his ear all the time, preventing him from even thinking to himself. There was so much white noise that it had ruined even the quiet that he once found in this space. He kicked an errant pebble in front of him, and watched it fall from the enchanted height.

           It wasn't that he was sad, or mad, or angry. He wasn't even properly frustrated. He just felt like he was an over-inflated dirigible, just waiting for the moment of explosion with no prior warning.

           Honestly, he had no idea how to feel. He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Ron and Hermione after the pathetic failure of a date with Cho. What had she said then? Something about Cho having so many feelings in one go that it made her feel torn up inside and so difficult to deal with.

           _Maybe that's a better description_ , he thought. _I feel like I'm being stretched out in all directions until just before the point that I get all torn up._

           To be fair, he had never imagined he would be in such a situation, at least not so soon. Things had been going great after the ward release, more than a year ago, and he and Ginny had fallen into the kind of comfortable companionship that they'd always looked for in each other. They'd given each other so much space to grow, and they both enjoyed the amazing experience of being by each other's sides during every accomplishment they had. Ginny had decided to move in with Harry to spend more time with him and offset her constant training with the Harpies, and they had both felt quite giddy at the idea of living together.

           Ginny's unexpected pregnancy happened next.

          

           Harry had looked back on that day so many times, analyzing it the same way he dissected Pensieve memories on the job. He used every angle and perspective, turned the scene around a million times in his head, and he still couldn't decide how he felt about it all.

           It had been an accident of sorts, and he remembered one particular weekend when Ginny had surprised him by coming home and literally seducing him out of his pants. It had been a wild and passionate night, and they had completely overlooked the usual contraceptive charms in lieu of surprise sex.

           But Harry had known instantly, deep within him, that he was happy with the news. He was shocked, of course! He had been stunned for a few seconds,and then became more ecstatic as he realized that _he was going to be a father!!!_ He had grabbed Ginny and spun her around, then almost immediately dropping her gently, worried for the baby.

           Then, though he rarely did so, he had opened up to Ginny about how much he loved her, and how much everything already felt like it was going alright, and that he had wanted to ask her sooner anyway, and would she please marry him?

           It had been silly of him to ask her again, since they were already engaged. Neither had minded the long engagement, but now! With a child on the way, surely the wedding was the right way to go. He felt it in his bones that everything was perfect.

           Then Ginny pulled him close and said no.

           That was probably when Harry's feelings became so very complicated.

           _I don't want to rush into something so big just because of this,_ she had told him. _A magical wedding is not something to be taken lightly, or decided so rashly. It would change our lives too much, and we've only just been adjusting to living together. Now we're about to have another big change in our lives, and I think we should focus on that. There won't be anything wrong if we waited to marry until after our baby, it's perfectly acceptable in the wizarding world if that's what you're worried about._

           _No, no, that's not what I'm worried about_ , he had thought to himself. He didn't even know what he had been worried about, since he still couldn't believe she's said no.

           _Harry, you know I love you, don't you?_

_Yes._

_And I know how much you love me, too._

_I do, you know I do._

_I know. We're having a baby, Harry! We don't need to suddenly make anything official just to show the world that we're in love and having a child and raising a family. It can wait. We can wait, can't we?_

           Harry had looked through the memory again and again, but he still couldn't see the exact moment when he had actually agreed.

          

           The sound of the door made him turn abruptly, pulling him from his thoughts.

           "Hey, it's just me," Ron said, smiling tentatively, staying by the door. "Hermione told me to check on you in case you had decided to escape using that cloak of yours."

           Harry couldn't help barking out a laugh at that. "Ha! I wish! It's not like I can leave my own New Year's party though, can I?" Otherwise he would have already nicked his Firebolt and gone off the roof hours ago.

           Ron answered with a chuckle. "Nah, mate, you're trapped here just like the rest of us, at least until after midnight."

           "How's everything going so far?" Harry inquired. "Sorry for disappearing, I just needed some air."

           "They're alright. Mum's just nagging Ginny about the baby, but that's been going on for the last two hours anyway so it's getting annoying."

           Harry felt that happy jolt in his stomach again at the mention of their child.

           "I should probably go back down then and save her," he said, heaving a sigh before turning back to walk towards Ron.

           The redhead clapped him on the back. "You alright, mate?"

           "Yeah," Harry assured him. "I've just got a lot of things running through my mind at the moment, you know? But I'm better now, thanks."

           Ron gave him a look, but decided not to push it. He shrugged and led Harry back down through the stairs, to where the rest of the family were celebrating the arrival of the New Year.

           Harry immediately sought out Ginny. Sure enough he found her in one corner of the kitchen, behind her mother. Her big smile otherwise hid her rising impatience, which was already obvious to him but apparently missed by all the other guests in their home.

           "Hey, Gin," Harry said, sidling up next to her and blocking out Molly Weasley. "Miss me?"

           Ginny cozied up to him enthusiastically and let him pull her away from her overbearing mother. "You have great timing, Mr. Potter," she said with a big smile, melting in his arms.

           "Did she, er, give you a hard time again?"

           Harry knew that while Arthur Weasley had agreed with Ginny regarding the belated wedding, Molly had remained adamant on arranging their bonding ceremony as soon as possible. Since they'd announced the pregnancy to the family a couple of months ago, Molly had taken to confronting them individually whenever she could, berating them about the consequences of their final decision.

           Ginny bore the brunt of her mother's force with ease, since she had grown up learning how to counter Molly's scolding. Harry, however, had taken to avoiding his future mother-in-law, and keeping their conversations short and straight to the point before finding a reason to excuse himself. After two months, Molly had finally relented, but nevertheless snuck in her advice whenever she got Ginny alone. Like at tonight's New Year's party.

           "I hope she gets over it eventually," Harry said, pouring himself a shot of Firewhiskey once they reached the bar. "D'you need to get away for a bit?" When Ginny nodded, Harry brought her to their bedroom and closed the door. The noise level immediately lowered and his fiancee let out a sigh of relief.

           "Thanks, Harry," she said, collapsing on the foot of the bed and closing her eyes. "I never imagined a baby could make me feel this knackered when it's not even out yet."

           Harry chuckled and settled himself in the armchair across the room. "You wait till he or she is born. From what I've heard from Bill and Fleur, we'll never get a good night's sleep again until we ship them off to Hogwarts. What did Molly say to you anyway?"

           "Oh, nothing new. Just trying to talk me out of training, you know?"

           "Well, you should," Harry said, silently agreeing with Molly for once. "I mean, it's a pretty hazardous job you've got, and they won't let you fly anyway after next month." Their Healer (under the strictest limitations of the Solum Sanctuarii, of course) had told them that the rest of the pregnancy after the first trimester called for less physically demanding activities, and there went Quidditch, out the window.

           "No, they won't let me," Ginny acknowledged resignedly, "but I can't have myself missing the rest. Just because I can't fly doesn't mean I can't learn the moves and study the formations with the others. Six months is a long time to miss training, Harry."

           "Yeah, I know. But can't you at least come back here earlier than what you'd planned?" He hated that she wanted to be away with the team all the way until her seventh month, or Merlin forbid, the eighth if she could find a way around it. "I wan't you home, safe. I want our little boy or girl safe."

           Ginny heard the softness in his voice, and she got up and went to him, nuzzling the top of his head and running her fingers down his tense chest.

           "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know how it must feel. It's just...I don't mean to be stubborn, I swear. I guess being on the pitch has always been so important to me, and even with this-" she gestured to her almost imperceptible baby bump, "it sounds stupid but I'm kind of scared that I'll never get back on and live my dream."

           Harry stood and turned to face her, before gently embracing her and kissing her deeply. "I'm scared too, Gin," he said. "and I'm a fucking Auror. But, I think of this as something that will change our lives for the better. I mean, sure, we'll have to make some sacrifices, and it'll definitely derail us for a while. But c'mon, you're already pro, the team loves you, your fans adore you, and I'm pretty fucking confident that you'll be back on the pitch, right as rain, as soon as you pop out our kid."

           "Wow, Harry," Ginny said, shaking her head. "Pop out our kid, that's a lovely euphemism. So romantic of you."

           "I try."

           Ginny let out a sigh. "We'll have to go back out now, won't we?"

           It was almost midnight, Harry was sure. "Unfortunately, yes, we do," he said, groaning. "Remind me again why we let all these people into our home at all?"

           "Because the first day of the new year should be spent with the ones you love," Ginny said, making a good impression of Professor McGonagall.

           Harry stifled a laugh. He felt better, having this talk. "Well, as much as I love George, I thought I saw him poking his wand around randomly in our sitting room, so I think we should go and make sure he doesn't set off any fireworks inside the flat."

           Ginny sat up in a panic,. "Ohhhh, _that's_ what he meant! Oh no no no-" and she ran back out to the where the rest of the family were beginning to count down to midnight, with Harry close behind her.

           "What d'you mean, that's what he meant?! Oi! George, you git! I want my house still standing after this party!!"

 

***

 

           By the time June came around, the Office of Malicious Magical Intent, despite being one of the youngest departments within the Auror Corps, had successfully apprehended twice as many guilty wizards in the last year alone as the previous system had in the last ten years. As such, the Minister awarded Harry with a larger space, as well as more Aurors on his team.

           At first, he and Ron had been apprehensive, both of them fearing the additional workload and extended hours. However, Kingsley pointed out that his intetion was that they could now delegate more tasks to their new subordinates, as well as spread out and rotate the Aurors around the clock. This ultimately meant that Harry and Ron, as Head and Deputy Head respectively, now had much more time on their hands, and much less stress to deal with, and Merlin knew that they both needed the break.

           Though Ron wouldn't say it out loud, Harry knew that his best mate had something going on with Hermione. Their disagreements had increased, even more than the usual amount of bickering one expected from their relationship. In fact, he expected that Hermione's pregnancy had affected them almost as much as Ginny's had with her and Harry. He knew that both of his best friends did their best to handle their domestic problems in private, and indeed Ron had never slacked off while he was on the job. Despite his carefree attitude and happy go lucky personality around friends and family, Auror Weasley still kept up a fierce reputation amongst the other Aurors, who did their best to avoid his temper. In fact, no suspect so far had escaped the inevitable breakdown and confession after only fifteen minutes of interrogation with both Harry and Ron. No one in the department ever questioned their authority, and they found that they liked it that way.

           _Seems like we've reached the point where we actually have marital problems,_ Harry thought ruefully as he leaned back behind his desk, watching Ron's somber expression from across the office. _And Merlin, we're only just approaching 24!_

           Realizing that he couldn't stand Ron being in such a bad mood, he finally stood up and went over to his partner's desk. Ron barely even looked up at his approach.

           "Hey, mate," Harry said, trying to sound casual. "I'm feeling a bit knackered stuck in this office. It's almost 5 already anyway, we can literally just walk out already. In fact, I think I need a pint. Or six. Fancy coming with?"

           Ron finally looked up, his face showing more worry lines and his skin betraying his obvious lack of sleep. It took a while, but he nodded his agreement, arranging the parchment on his desk before stepping out with Harry.

 

           The Leaky Cauldron was always the go-to place for wizards in London, but Harry decided that he and Ron needed a much quieter environment. For this reason, it was at one of the more exclusive and hidden pubs that they found themselves in, settled in a booth and nursing their pints. Of course, no one bothered them, not having recognized who they were as Harry had wished.

           "So," Ron said after they had relaxed a little. "Why the sudden need to get pissed?"

           Harry laughed at his question, no longer sure about which of them needed the drinks more. "I dunno, mate," he replied, taking another gulpful of his drink. "I just felt like we both needed this."

           Ron remained quiet for a while, and Harry was afraid that he had overstepped his boundaries, but then the redhead nodded and said, "Thanks."

           "So what's up, anyway?" Harry said, now testing the waters. He was worried about his friends, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up without prodding too much. When Ron looked at him, Harry rolled his eyes, unable to control himself. "Oh give it up, Ron. I've known you for so long that I'm pretty sure I know when something's wrong. You're fighting again, are you?"

           Ron nodded miserably. "Hermione, she's gone all barmy!" he cried, then looked as if he regretted his words. "I mean, maybe it's the stress of the pregnancy. Is it the same with my sister?"

           Harry shrugged. "Ginny has really bad mood swings. Though it's not like I would know, since I barely get to see her anyway..."

           Ron picked up on Harry's misery, and suddenly understood that this night was just as much for Harry as it was for him. "Er, got problems, too, mate?"

           Harry shook his head. "I honestly don't know, Ron. Really. I'm so excited to have this kid, and Ginny's been acting as if it's holding her back from training. She only comes home one day a week now, since she's decided to stay on for training even if she's banned from flying, and Merlin knows we haven't even properly celebrated the fact that we're going to have a son!" With that, Harry took a big gulp and set his mug down heavily. "We're alright, Ginny and I. It's just- I hate that she's away during this- this special time for us as a couple. But I would hate myself if I took away the one passion she has in her life. I'm afraid that this is all my fault, that I can't give her what she wants, what she dreams of."

           Ron pursed his lips, probably trying to think of the right thing to say. He was in a difficult position, Harry realized, stuck between his best mate and his sister.

           "Hermione's like that, you know," he said quietly. "When we got married, everything was just great, and it still is, for the most part. But every time we talk about family, she just goes cold on me, and it's obvious that she doesn't see it the same way I do, even though she doesn't say it. At least Gin wants a family. I'm not sure if Hermione's sure about having kids just yet." He shrugged weakly. "That's why, since we found out she was pregnant, it's been- It's never a big fight, or some crazy argument where we stop talking to each other. Instead, it's like we're both dancing with each other, tiptoeing carefully around something so we don't set it off."

           Harry stared at his best friend with sympathy. He had no idea they were in such similar situations. "Wow," he said. "Who'd've thought we would both be here, barely 25, trying to get pissed because of relationship shite."

           There was silence for a while, during which they both paid a lot of attention to their mugs. It seemed to both that they had exhausted their capacity to express their emotions. Harry threw around his thoughts then, wondering if this was all just a part of life. It seemed too much that he and Ron were basically in the same boat. On the other hand, it relieved him a bit since he knew deep down that they would probably get over this pathetic period in their lives, maybe even laugh about it. That didn't mean he couldn't hate it while it lasted.

           Ron blurted out "I hate this!" and promptly drained the rest of his mug before bringing it down heavily and banging it on their table. Harry didn't care, since his Solum Sanctuarii bindings would prevent anyone from noticing them. He was surprised, therefore, when someone did.

           "Weasley? Potter?"

           Both Aurors turned around and found themselves looking incredulously at Draco Malfoy. After getting over the fact that the blonde had even noticed them, Harry finally found his voice and greeted his former adversary. Ron gave him a sort of wave before staring down at the table, apparently back to his own sorrows.

           Malfoy nodded politely at their acknowledgment and tentatively approached their booth. "What brings you law enforcers here?" he asked, all small talk and none of the venom that may have been exchanged only years ago. "I didn't think your crowd would appreciate small haunts like this."

           Harry shrugged. "Ron and I have come here before, though not for a while. Are you always here, then?" He hadn't seen Malfoy out much, though he always saw him in the papers. The last time they had actually spoken was at some Ministry event last year, and they had barely exchanged more than a few pleasantries.

           "I don't come here as often as I'd like, though I really should. It's one of mine, you see."

           Ron sputtered. "This is one of your businesses?" Harry shared his surprise, since he and Ron had never heard mention of it.

           Malfoy nodded, understanding their silent question. "It's not exactly general information. After all, I'm more of an invisible investor here, and I leave the actual management and operations to others."

           Harry realized that the blonde was alone, and was standing awkwardly before their booth. With slight reluctance, he said, "Er, would you, er, care to join us?"

           Ron looked at Harry pointedly, and they had a two second silent discussion, after which the former relented and said, "Yeah, I s'pose. By all means, join our merry-making." Harry noticed that Ron was at least distracted from his misery, so that was probably a good idea. Nothing could possibly be worse than their previous topic.

           The blonde's face flashed with obvious surprise at being invited. "Oh, er, thank you, yes I think I'll join you," he said, seating himself next to, but slightly away from Harry. The brunet drained the rest of his drink, waved to the barman for another round, and worried about how to make small talk while they waited. Thankfully, Malfoy seemed much better at handling awkward situations, socialite that he was.

           "So how goes your new and improved department, Potter?" he asked. "I admit, I was mildly surprised when the Prophet reported those statistics."

           "You mean you had doubts about the amazing success of my idea?" Harry asked.

           Malfoy laughed. "I think most everyone did. The wizarding folk do not adapt so well or so quickly with any type of change, and apparently you and Weasley just turned everything upside down in the Auror Corps."

           Ron laughed at the mental image of him and Harry turning over tables in the Ministry. "It was a long time in coming, if you ask me. Harry was the one who realized what was so lacking in the system, and it took a while to convince the Minister. But now everyone can see that the MMI is just what the Aurors needed all these years."

           A wispy girl interrupted them then to serve their drinks, before leaving (without any recognition, of course).

           "You work with the Ministry now, too, don't you?" Harry inquired.

           Malfoy nodded. "It's not exactly open information, but seeing as you value privacy, what with your invocation and all" (Harry chuckled at that) "I guess I can be forthcoming with you two." He took another drink before continuing, and both Harry and Ron leaned closer with interest.

           "During my probation, the DMLE would approach me for opinions about the more difficult cases." Harry and Ron both look surprised, and Draco laughed. "You wouldn't have known then, since I believe you were only training at the time. Anyway, the Minister found out that I had been instrumental in deciphering the cases that revolved around potions and poisons. That was why he encouraged that I pursue a Mastery in Potions, actually. And now I act as a confidential consultant to special cases for the Department of Mysteries."

           "Impressive," Harry said. "This must be of high confidentiality, since even I never knew that."

           Malfoy nodded. "Naturally they had to keep the nature of my consultancy top secret. I can't even begin to tell either of you the incredible things they keep down there.:"

           "Oh, we have a pretty good idea," Ron interjected, shaking his head. "Never going back down there, never again, I tell you."

           Harry laughed at the shock on Malfoy's face. "Fifth Year. Break In at the Ministry. Long story."

           "That-that was you?!" Malfoy sputtered, his turn to be incredulous. "Ha! I thought those were stupid rumors you spread around."

           "No, it was all real," Harry said, his tone slightly darker. "But yeah, we found a load of crazy stuff in the Department of Mysteries, so you must be in real deep to be working with them."

           Malfoy perceived the sudden change in topic, but he allowed it. "It pays well."

           Ron choked on his drink. "Gotta say, Ferret, I never thought I'd ever hear you talk about working for money." He had meant it as a joke, of course, and Malfoy took it in stride.

           "Neither did I, Weasel," he said smoothly. Then he realized that a wizard from across the room was waving him over. "Speaking of work, if you'll excuse me, I really must go. The man over there is there is my six o' clock appointment."

           He rose from the table and gathered his cloak. "Oh, and tonight is on the house," he added brusquely. At the looks of confusion on the Aurors' faces, he smirked. "I _am_ a Slytherin, you know. I could read you like a book, and despite all your formal training, I think your Gryffindor transparency has betrayed you. I can tell that you both desperately need to get piss-drunk, so consider this a parting gift from someone who would rather not be present for your sob stories. Cheers!" And before the others could say anything, he winked, turned on his heel and walked away.

           Ron looked utterly gobsmacked. Harry felt Confunded. "Did Draco Malfoy just buy us our drinks?"

 

 

***

 

          

           That night, Draco went through his usual routine. He wished Narcissa a good night. He bid all the house elves to rest. He cleared out his desk and prepared the documents he needed for the next morning. Then, he went to up to his and Astoria's bedroom, and Floo-called his wife (who was staying in Vienna for the weekend). Finally, after his somewhat complicated bathroom ritual, he settled himself into bed and waited for sleep to take him.

           His mind couldn't stop thinking about the absurdity of sharing drinks and laughs with Potter and Weasley. Sure, they had gotten over their animosity a couple years ago, and they had been pretty mature about it. They had even been at Draco's wedding, he and Astoria had made sure of that (as it was also a well-calculated move on their part, which played out to their advantage).

           What surprised him was the easy civility that they now had between them. Sure, he probably wouldn't be best mates with them, but the short time he had spent in their booth was proof that they had gotten over the worst years of their lives.

           It bothered him though, that both the Potty and the Weasel had looked absolutely miserable. Draco had realized that the moment he saw them, which was a big part of why he had approached at all. Sly old Slytherin in him, he was drawn in by his curiosity, and his need to gain information from any and every source. Malfoy training and all. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he felt terrible for his former enemies.

           _What could possibly be plaguing the hero of the wizarding world?_ he wondered sleepily. _There wasn't any cause of concern in the news, and nothing but praise for Potter and Weasley's success in the Auror Corps. Neither was there much news about the Weaselette, unless you count the rumors that she was being recruited for the National team for 2006. What was it about Potter's life that was causing him so much pain?_

           It took a while for Draco's imagination to stop ruminating, and he eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

 

***

 

           Harry couldn't stop pacing outside the door, that Ron threatened him with an Incarcerous before he agreed to sit down and relax. Merlin, he never thought it would be this nerve wracking to wait!

           "Auror Potter?" A Healer had come out from the room.

           Harry stood up instantly, as did Ron, Hermione, and the entire Weasley clan, who had pretty much set up camp in St. Mungo's. The Healer held out his hand to the redheads, and they slumped back down on their chairs. He beckoned to Harry, and led him into the room.

           Harry couldn't think.

           He walked slowly, as quietly as he could, ignoring the other Healers and Mediwitches who were moving around him. His breath hitched as the Healer pulled him closer to the bed where Ginny lay, holding a bundle of cloth in her arms with a weak smile on her pale face.

           "Congratulations, Auror Potter," the Healer said brightly. "It's a healthy baby wizard!"

           He stared at the tiny figure in Ginny's arms, focused on the gentle curves of the face, lingered on the dark tufts of hair, touched a finger to the tiny little balled up fists.

           He let out the breath that he didn't know he had been holding. He moved closer to Ginny, saw her happy tears, and he wasn't even ashamed when he realized that he, too, was crying. He kissed her, gently, but deeply. "I love you," he told her, over and over, "I love you."

           Ginny wiped away the tear tracks on Harry's cheek. "I love you," she whispered, voice still weak but eyes full of fierce joy. "Now say hello to our son."

           A Mediwitch appeared out of nowhere and brought the swaddled bundle, laying it lightly into Harry's arms.

           "Hello, James Sirius." And he let his tears flow freely, leaning into Ginny, as they both basked in each other's presence, and that of their first born son.

          

 

          

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last chapter of the "Flashbacks". I hope you've liked it so far. The story from here on in (2005+) will start to focus on the dynamic and relationship between Draco and Harry. Again, I indicated in the warnings above that this is a Really Really Really Slow Build Fic :)
> 
> Also, now I can put a new Author's Note to say that the Present picks up from Chapter 9, just so future readers know what to expect :) Thanks again for reading, and hope you enjoy :)


	9. Propositions

**(Present, 2005)**  

           "Hurry up, darling, or we'll be late."

           Draco rushed out of the bathroom in response to his wife's growing impatience. She knew him well enough to know that he took great pride in grooming himself, taking special care that his soft hair always fell around his face in just the right way, but _still._ It wasn't as if he had her natural charm or offhanded beauty- _she_ didn't have to spend such a long time primping in front of the dresser as much as Draco did.

           As he straightened out the collar of his dress robes for the fifty sixth time that hour, he glanced at Astoria, who had been looking at him with a patronizing look on her face. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm ready, darling. Shall we?"

           He proffered his arm to her, and she accepted. "I'm really starting to believe that your vanity makes up more than three quarters of your personality," she teased. Draco sniffed, playing the affronted husband.

           "It is not _mere vanity_ to take an interest in maintaining one's outward appearance, particularly if it is of utmost importance to one's reputation," he said, turning his nose up. "And I happen to have very high standards."

           "I don't doubt it," Astoria laughed. "I suppose it remains to be one of your more endearing qualities."

           "My appearance?"

           "Your standards."

           Draco pretended to be offended once more, but his face had the trademark smug expression. "You forget my charm, my wit, my sharp intellect, my highly aristocratic beauty. And my gorgeous body, of course."

           "After three years of marriage to you, I have yet to develop a tolerance for your unmatched ego." At Draco's smirk, Astoria kissed his cheek, squeezed his arm and they turned on the spot.

 

           A second later, they were gracefully stepping into the ballroom of the Ministry.

           "Draco and Astoria Malfoy!" came a voice from the doorway, evidently the _de rigeur_ Announcement Charm. The couple, as they had already expected, were immediately accosted by the other guests, who were clamoring for their attention. The Malfoys were still very much celebrities amongst the more exclusive wizarding society, and people fawned over the perfect picture of pureblood partnership that they embodied. And so began another night of polite conversation, formal dancing and the occasional caress between the spouses when they could manage them. With the flash of lightbulbs almost blinding Draco, it was no surprise that he completely ignored the pair of dark grey eyes, ominously watching him from across the hall.

 

***

 

           Molly Weasley had taken to prowling along the corridors in her highly frenzied state, which caused Harry's levels of concern to spike up even more.

           "Molly, please," he said gently, "the Healers will figure out what's wrong with her. No need to fret, now."

           Of course, everybody was fretting. Hermione had been perfectly healthy just yesterday, up until she had suddenly passed out earlier that day, and in the middle of a conversation with Ron. Of course they'd all panicked. They couldn't think of a reason for her to have lost consciousness without warning.

           Ron sidled up to Harry and his eyes flashed towards one of the alcoves down the hall. Harry, having been Ron's partner for so long, immediately picked up the message and excused himself smoothly from Molly and leaving her to resume her pacing.

           "You alright?" Harry asked Ron when they reached the more private space. The redhead shook his head.

           "I'm worried as fuck, Harry," he replied, voice shaking. "It isn't like her. She's always been up and about, you know, always this ball of energy. I mean, sure she had a hard time with Hugo last year, but she'd recovered quickly."

           Harry knew why Ron was so worried about his wife. After all, no one was likely to forget the difficult delivery of their son, who had come out prematurely after only six months. The Healers had told Ron that the early labor had been a common occurrence for first timers, but they did warn them against unnecessary levels of stress in case they wanted to try for another child in the future. Hermione had then been showered with much care and attention from all around, and her husband had nursed her back to health. In no time, she was back on her feet, and back to scaring half the members of the Legislative Council into thinking straight.

           "She'll be alright, mate," Harry assured him (and maybe himself as well). "It was only when she was carrying Hugo that she even got a bit sick. She's as healthy as a horse most of the time."

           "Why would you compare her to a horse?!" Ron cried. Harry chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation.

           "Sorry, Muggle expression. But anyway, what I mean is, there's probably a very good explanation for her fainting. Maybe she was just stressed out today and it didn't show."

           "I can't stand not knowing," Ron said glumly, looking once again towards the door into the ward.

           At the precise moment, two Healers came out and motioned for Ron to approach them. As the nervous redhead crossed the hallway to converse with them, Harry walked back towards where Ginny was sitting, holding a sleeping James in her arms.

           "How is Ron?" she asked quietly.

           "He's pretty worried, it's reminding him too much of last year."

           Ginny bit her lip. "You know we were pretty lucky that James' delivery was perfectly normal, if a bit of a challenge."

           Harry agreed wholeheartedly. The Healers had told him then that Ginny's had been difficult because she had carried the boy to more than full term, and had to be induced to go into labor. Other than that though, they just received a mild scolding for allowing Ginny in the presence of a "highly stressful competitive environment". Harry knew though, that being with her team had really helped Ginny in more ways than one. She had really belonged out there, and her mood and health were always high up where Quidditch was concerned. Come to think of it, Harry would bet his vault that Ginny's health would have deteriorated if she'd been forced to stay home and rest. It just went against who she was, and Harry was proud that she had such a strong constitution. James was perfectly healthy, a mix of the best between the two of them.

           Sadly, Hugo had been a completely different case. Harry's eyes flicked across the room, looking at Molly, who was handling a tiny bundle in her arms. Hugo, fast asleep, was at least much better now, but had been in critical condition when he had been born. The Healers had to put him in a magical incubation charm for several weeks until he became stable enough to be brought home. Ron and Hermione had stayed in a private ward at St. Mungo's the entire time, and were glad when they were finally given clearance to take their baby home.

           At that very second, Molly met his gaze and started. She motioned for him to come closer, so he crossed the room and settled himself next to her.

           "Harry, dear," she whispered, eager to keep Hugo sleeping in peace. "Andromeda Floo'd me just last night, asking if either of us could watch Teddy for a couple of days.

           Harry went through his schedule mentally, a bit excited when he realized that he had some time off that very week. Perfect for some bonding time with his godson. "I can do it," he said enthusiastically. "I've got some time this week, I'm sure you and Arthur need to take more care of Hugo at the moment..." he trailed off, his worry for Hermione coming back.

           "Thank you so much, dear," the woman said, looking like she was on the brink of tears. "Have you had news? About Hermione?" When Harry shook his head, she pursed her lips before speakng again. "You know I'd always reminded Hermione how terribly demanding and highly involved having a child can be.

           Harry gaped at that. Of course it was highly involved! A woman physically had a foreign body growing inside of her for nine months! When Molly saw his expression, she shook her head.

           "I don't mean just the physical, Harry. Try to explain to me why my daughter had a much easier time giving birth despite being away and highly active" (she growled this out) "during hewr rigorous training?"

           Harry repeated to her what he had thought, about Ginny being much better when she was at training. Molly nodded meaningfully.

           "That's what I mean, dear. Hermione has always been quite the lively girl. She hadn't been exposed to rigorous and tiring activities, she only went between the home and the Ministry. But the difference was that she went ahead and put most of herself in her work- Oh, it's not a bad thing, Harry!" she said when he had been about to defend Hermione. "I fully support her career ambitions, of course! But the way she involves herself in her work affects her in such a negative way. Ron tells me that she tends to bring home whatever foul mood she picked up throughout the day. That kind of stress was bound to have affected Hugo, because she was exhausting herself in every way.

           Harry paused to think about it. "I guess it could be true," he said slowly. "Ginny was always tired, physically, but she always had this great mood. She had a lot of stress as well but now that you mention it, she was always happier than sad." He mentally compared Ginny's exhausted but contented smiles, against Hermione's fragility and pessimism. Where he and Ginny had decided to see the pregnancy as a slight speed bump but a gift nevertheless, he knew that Ron and Hermione had had debates on the practicality of child rearing, and tended to focus on their personal differences. He couldn't really see Ron adding to the negativity, because they worked together and he was a witness to Ron's amazing work ethic, his efficiency at keeping his professional and personal lives clearly defined. He never took work home with him (as if Harry would let him!) and he always looked forward to coming home to his wife.

           He sighed. He had known Hermione well enough to understand her personal drive, her motivations. But now that it seemed to affect so many people around her, he had no clue how to go about it. Looking back to their Hogwarts days, it became blindingly obvious to Harry just how negative she could become when she pushed herself too hard. How she had once prioritized education over life (he and Ron would never let her forget that! When is being expelled EVER going to be worse than getting killed?!) They way she had suspected Harry's Firebolt and gone about it underhandedly, ruining his and Ron's moods (despite being right about it). How even Dumbledore had admitted (albeit in the afterlife) that he had relied on Hermione's logical pessimism to hold Harry back from the Deathly Hallows, because she was just that predictable. And now she was going way overboard.

           Molly seemed to see that they had come to the same conclusions. "You see, Harry," she said. "My daughter knows what she wants, and how to reach it, but she also understands herself to know how to make it her source of happiness, of achievement. I'm afraid," and she dropped her voice to a whisper here, "I'm afraid that Hermione is pushing herself too hard for all the wrong reasons, and it's poisoning everything and everyone around her. I believe she knows what she wants... but she's not sure why she wants it, or why it isn't making her as happy as she'd thought..."

           Their conversation was interrupted by Ron's reemergence from the wards. As they all stood up and waited for him to speak, it seemed to Harry that the very air around them flowed with so much love, affection and support, and it warmed his heart. Ginny carefully balanced James on one hip so that she could lay her other arm around her brother's shoulders. Molly gave him a quick hug before inquiring silently with her eyes. Harry could see the Ron's face turning slightly red, and to their surprise, he gave a weak smile.

           "We're having a baby."

 

***

 

           Harry gave Ron the entire week off to take care of Hermione while she remained at St. Mungo's. To her immense displeasure, the Healers had crossly explained to her that this pregnancy could be more difficult than Hugo's had been, and that they wanted her to be more careful this time around. Careful, of course, meant that she had to take a leave from work, and had to stay home as much as possible. Harry figured his friends needed that extra week just to get all of that sorted.

           Luckily his subordinates were supportive of the idea that both Head and Deputy Head were such loving family men, and eagerly volunteered for enough work load to give Harry and Ron enough time to concentrate on their private lives. This was highly appreciated, of course, especially since Harry had both Teddy and James to take care of that week, since Ginny had gone back on her regular training schedule on James' eighth month. She made it a point to come home every night instead of just the weekend, as it was the best compromise she and Harry had agreed on. Thankfully, Molly and Andromeda were always ready to help during those weekd when Harry still had to go to work during the day.

           Naturally, at first, Harry had had trouble juggling the baby-watch between himself, Ginny, Molly and Andromeda. However, Kingsley himself saw the need to change Harry's hours to accommodate James' care. Therefore, he had placed Harry on a paternal leave, letting him work from home so that he could be with James around the clock. Harry liked this arrangement, since it gave him time with his son, as well as let him continue his responsibilities as the Head of MMI. What he hated about it was the feeling of loneliness brought about by spending the entire day in an empty flat.

           Luckily, Teddy was staying for several days this time, so Harry was sure to have his hands full of his godson's shenanigans. Merlin knew he needed the distraction after the long, boring days he'd been having, working on his latest case/curse. Sitting in front of the fire, he couldn't contain his excitement on seeing his godson again. There could never be a dull moment with that crazy ball of energy.

 

           Sure enough, the Floo roared to life, bathing the sitting room in emerald light. Out from the hearth jumped little Teddy, not so little anymore at 7. In fact, Harry felt a slight jolt when he realized that he had grown by an inch since he last stayed over.

           "Harryyyyyyyy!" the boy cried, hugging his godfather's legs.

           "Hey, little man," Harry said, ruffling the boy's hair (currently a dark brown). "Didja miss me?"

           Teddy giggled and leaned in to whisper mischievously. "I didn't tell grandma about the extra ice cream last time, so can we have some again?" he said, eyes glancing back towards the fireplace. Sure enough, another roar echoed, and Andromeda Tonks appeared, dusting off soot from her shoulders. She beheld her grandson and his godfather, and her eyes warmed.

           "Harry," she greeted, and they hugged briefly before she leaned away, still gripping Harry by the shoulders. "Thank you so much for doing this. I know you've been busy with James, and Molly is up all night tending to Hugo..."

           "I'm happy to do it, Andromeda," he replied, smiling. "In fact, I needed company anyway, and Teddy is just the perfect roommate for me."

           "Well in that case, you know the drill," she said, handing him over a shrunken trunk filled with all the things Harry needed to care for Teddy. "I've packed more clothes for him, since he went through almost an entire wardrobe the last time he stayed here, all that chocolate syrup on the shirts..." She raised one eyebrow at Harry, and he realized she knew about his bribing him with ice cream. He smiled sheepishly, but Andromeda's smile seemed to hint that it was okay. " I've included some of his favorite books and toys, since he now loves being read to before bed..."

           It took Harry another quarter hour just to assure Andromeda, but eventually he was able to convince her to relax and go about her way. After all, she had left Teddy with Harry because she needed to take care of important family matters, and couldn't bring the boy with her. When she finally disappeared from the Floo, Harry picked Teddy up in his arms, then levitated the small trunk to the smallest bedroom, which he had long since kept for the little boy. It was almost time for bed, so they went through the routine of washing up and tucking in. When Teddy was settled and looking sleepy after Harry read to him, he yawned largely and turned on his side, which was Harry's cue to leave.

           "Can I play with James tomorrow?" the boy suddenly asked. Harry thought about it, frowning because his own son was barely a year old.

           "You can help me take care of him, if that's what you mean," he suggested.

           "Yeah, I wanna take care of him. That's what big brothers do."

           With a pang, Harry realized that this would be the closest he would have to having a brother. "That's right, Ted," he said, his voice a little tight. "You're gonna be the best big brother! We'll have so much fun tomorrow. Sleep tight!" He kissed him on the forehead, then left the room, casting the usual monitoring and protecting wards on the door.

 

           That night, Harry stayed in his study to wait for Ginny. In a bassinet by the corner, James was fast asleep. It was during these quiet hours when his mind usually began to work.

           He went through the piles of parchment littering one corner of his desk, in a weak attempt at putting his things in order. Draco's reply was still sitting on top of one pile, and Harry perused it once more before dropping it and heaving a sigh.

           This case was driving everyone in MMI mental. The amount of guilt running around the department was also increasing, since they hadn't been able to put a stop to the string of murders. The suspect that they had apprehended had had a complicated Memory Charm worked into his mind, which made it difficult for Harry's team to construct a decent profile. All that they had to work on was a recovered list of ingredients, whose final product could not be found in the suspect's head, but was presumably sinister in nature, and probably used to commit the horrid crimes.

           It had only come to Harry the previous night to owl Malfoy. If he were being honest with himself, he was surprised that he hadn't come up with the idea earlier, considering that the blonde was considered one of the brightest Potions experts. Obviously, since his consultancy for the Department of Mysteries was highly confidential, as was the nature of the case, Harry had had to word his desperate letter in such a way that would not draw attention. He had sent it off first thing in the morning, hoping to hear back from the man by the evening. Thank Merlin that Malfoy had picked up the severity of his (kind of stupid) message. Now that Harry knew Malfoy was willing to help them, he had felt much better and was able to greet Andromeda and Teddy without the usual burden on his back.

           Eventually, he fell asleep, not waking even when Ginny had Floo'd home, levitated him to their bed and checked on their son and Teddy. Harry dreamt of soft kisses, a body snuggling close to him, the breath of a whisper in his ear. When he woke the next morning, his breakfast was waiting for him in the kitchen under a Warming Charm, Ginny already gone.

 

***

 

           "A special case, you say?" Astoria couldn't hide her surprise upon hearing that Draco had been requested by Potter to help him. She turned away from her reflection in the dresser to look at her husband. His face was serious, somber, and she knew that he was telling her the truth.

           Draco had gotten the letter the day before. Originally, he hadn't any idea why Potter would consider writing something so mundane. It had been very odd, unexpected and mysterious, all of which merely increased his curiosity.

 

           _Malfoy,_ _  
_

_It's been a while since you, Ron and I got together. I think it was last year, when you bought us our drinks, remember?_

_Anyway, we were hoping you would be up for another round, hopefully within the week, if your schedule permits. In fact, we'd love to hear what you think about this new recipe I've found, it's definitely something your godfather would have loved to get his hands on it. You know, I'm actually sure he'd've loved to feed it to me himself if he could. If he did, it would have made me feel as great as Ron did when he had that custom-made Firewhiskey that one time, I'm sure you remember since you had a hand in that._

_Hope to hear from you as soon as you get this owl. You know how bad Ron and I are with time. Merlin forbid you start to get on our case._

_Sincerely,_ _  
_

_Harry Potter_

           The first time he had read it, he was tempted to chuck it in the fire. The very idea of Potter writing such nonsense to him irritated him, all those casual references to their terrible past. But then he had read it again. And again. And it had finally made sense to him.

           "Yes, Potter needs to help him. Immediately, it seems."

           "How do you even get that idea from such a stupid letter?" Astoria asked after she had read it. The words had sounded dissonant, as if they didn't even go together. Draco waved his hand impatiently.

           "It sounds stupid when you first read it," he said. "But when I went through it again, well, here-"

He went through the letter line by line. "The new recipe they're talking about made no sense to me at first. But then he mentions Severus, which of course seemed even more mental. But when he says the thing about Severus wanting to feed him himself, it all just fell together. There was nothing Severus would have loved to do than to force-feed Potter poison. And Weasley had almost died when he had the bottle that I-er-that I had meant for Dumbledore. And he tacked on that awkward expression at the end, but I think he's quite literally saying that he wants me to get on their case, to help them figure out a recipe for something that might be a deadly potion."

           Astoria looked at him blankly. "You really think you're interpreting all of that correctly? It sounds as if you had just pulled all of that out of nowhere..."

           "No," Draco said, shaking his head. "I always called Potter an idiot, but we're talking about Auror Potter here. He's not about to randomly owl a man he'd met for drinks one time, a year ago, and write him a letter that makes absolutely no logical sense. He's not that stupid. That's got to be it. They need my help and can't ask properly without being suspicious."

           "Will you write him back?" Astoria queried, using the tone usually reserved for when she was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

           Draco thought about it. There was something about Potter and Weasley needing him that made him want to laugh in their faces. But of course, that was the spurned young Slytherin in him. No, if he were being honest with himself, there was now an urge to rush to his former enemies and offer his hand to them. Even more shocking, there was a small part of him, a miniscule part, of course, but a part nonetheless, that recognized someone in need and wanted to do anything to help.

           "Actually, I've already said yes," he said, to the shock of his wife. "I sent off my response right after I'd figured it out."

           When it seemed that she had nothing else to say, he excused himself and left the room.

           _Bloody hell_ , he thought as he strode towards his study. _I hope this stupid impulse doesn't mean I'm going Gryff!_

          

 


	10. Sorting Out Priorities

**(Present, 2005)**

           "You made this for me?!" Hermione exclaimed. In her hands, she held a ceramic dish, inside of which was Harry's trademark Shepherd's Pie.

           Harry grinned and nodded. "Seeing as you and Ron are probably zombies this week, I thought I'd make you some so you have a little less to worry about-" his words were cut short by a mouthful of hair. He spat out most of the frizz before saying "Geez, Mione, a little warning next time before you attack me, okay?"

           The witch released him from her death grip and punched him on the arm. Ron walked into the kitchen, sniffing. "Is that Harry's Shepherd's Pie?" he asked enthusiastically.

           Harry laughed. Trust Ron's nose to zone in on the smell of _covered_ food from two rooms away.

           "Yeah, yeah, I made you guys some. I have a lot of free time at home, anyway," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "How're you feeling lately, Hermione?"

           "Much better, thanks," she replied while stowing away the pie into the fridge. It had been a week since the mad rush to St. Mungo's, but at least she was visually looking better. Even her mood was much more positive than the usual angry haze that surrounded her before and after work (a.k.a. All the time). The bed rest and work leave seemed to be a good combination for her stress levels. That also meant that she and Ron got along much better again, which meant that Ron was also in a good mood.

           Unfortunately, the happy ambience didn't last. "Er, Harry?" Ron asked hesitantly. "Have you heard from Malfoy yet?"

           "Yes!" Harry slapped himself on the head. "It was stupid of me to forget to mention it!:"

           "Can't blame you there, mate," Ron shuffled guiltily. "It's not like we didn't provide some distraction..."

           Harry brushed off Ron's sudden mood drop, trying to lighten it again. "I was surprised, but he owled me back the same day with a pretty straightforward agreement to help us in the case. Can't tell you enough how relieved I am," he added for good measure. "If he can't help us figure out that stupid potion, I might get desperate enough to bring Snape back to life."

           Ron's eyes widened at the joke, then smiled. "Yeah, I s'pose," he agreed, knowing what Harry meant about putting all their hopes on their ex-nemesis. "If he's really the best, and he can't do shite, then we're all screwed."

           Hermione looked back and forth between her husband and best friend. She couldn't help it, she was interested in their tricky cases because she felt that it gave her grey matter some exercise. "You have no idea what the ingredients are?" she asked Harry. It sounded dubious that the top Aurors couldn't even identify a list of ingredients.

           "I told you," Harry insisted, "the names of the stuff were really obscure, so we think it's written either in code, which is unlikely for the bloke we got the memory from, or in a sort of potioneer's shorthand. We only know it's a recipe because of the quantities written before the names."

           Hermione went into her 'thoughtful' mode. "Hmmm, well I have read about a few masters who were really guarded about their own discoveries that they would use nicknames or abbreviations, or even obscure references. You're right though, using an actual code isn't practical even for the most secretive potioneer, because of the increased margin of error if even one letter were misinterpreted. I'm guessing that just the right amount of obscurity, like maybe using names from another language, would be enough to at least discourage even the nosiest of people."

           Ron laughed, but grimly. "On the contrary, this stupid list just encouraged me to be more curious, so I guess whoever wrote it failed at that." He looked at Harry again. "So when are we meeting Malfoy? I mean, how is that even going to work?"

           "Well after another quick owl exchange - and mate, let me just tell you how awful it is to have to write a seriously loaded message in the plainest terms - he told me that we could meet up at same place as before."

           "You've met him before?" Hermione asked incredulously. "When was this?"

           "OH," Ron said, aghast. "I can't believe I never mentioned it to you!" He glanced quickly at Harry, who of course knew exactly why his friend hadn't mentioned it. The topic of that particular day hadn't exactly been something they wanted to remember. To be honest, Malfoy had actually helped to improve their moods by the end of that night.

           "Ron and I just had a few drinks after work, and we ran into him. This was last year. Turned out the pub was his, so he stayed with us for a bit until the person he had to meet arrived. That was pretty much it."

           Ron sent him a silent thank you and Harry graciously accepted it. That's what best mates were for.

           "I wonder why he wants to meet up there again," Hermione said contemplatively. "Nothing wrong with it, just, of all the other possible places…"

           Harry thought about it. "Well I think he was able to grasp that Ron and I want to keep it on the down low about both the case and his secret connection to the Ministry. Viridian was the last place the three of us had a drink, so it would make sense that we would meet up there again for casual friendly banter. He's also got a good reason to be there without suspicion, and so do Ron and I."

           Ron agreed. "It wouldn't beg attention since it had happened before. And with Harry's bindings, everyone will just see Malfoy hanging out with a couple of generally forgettable blokes."

           The plan seemed to satisfy Hermione, except for one thing. "How are you going to keep this up though? You can't be seen getting too chummy with Malfoy since you aren't that close as friends. People who know you," and she looked pointedly at Harry, reminding him that they had friends who were within the wards, "those whom you allow to see you won't react well after seeing you together so often. It would be too weird, maybe even cause suspicion among those who know you."

           Harry raised his eyebrow at her. "Oh, you know what I mean!" she said defensively. "I'm not saying he's a bad guy, I just think that the world isn't too ready to accept anything more than a friendly civility between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. It's just, well, there's too much history between you two, you know?"

           Ron appeared to think about it, then nodded. "Then we'll eventually have to meet up privately, then." He looked quickly at Harry, knowing that despite all the civility, it was too much to have to ask them to meet up too often in private. "Not often, maybe just enough to discourage other people's suspicions or curiosity."

           "We'll figure it out when we're there," Harry said shortly, not wanting to imagine any more reasons to have to spend extra time with Malfoy, whether in public or in private.

           Ron shrugged, taking the hint to move on from the topic. "So when are we eating that pie? Why'd you put away the pie? I want some of that pie!"

 

***

 

           Harry helped Hermione to put away the dishes after the early dinner (Ron had convinced her to take the Shepherd's Pie right back out), and being the opportunistic Auror that he was, he saw the opening to talk to her in private when her husband had to answer a Floo call.

           "So, Mione," he began nervously. He didn't want to set her off in any way. "I've been meaning to talk to you alone for a while, you know, just to talk." He went for light and casual, but Hermione rolled her eyes at him and sighed dramatically.

           "Harry, you've been on tenterhooks since you came by with the pie that I'm starting to think it was some form of bribery. What do you want?"

           "Merlin, Hermione, sometimes you're way too smart for your own good."

           "I'm also just perceptive," she replied while waving her wand to do up the dishes in the sink.

           "Fine," Harry said. "I'm just really worried about you, okay? So sue me."

           "Everyone seems to be making my life a matter of public opinion-"

           "Complain to me, why don't you?" Harry sighed. Hermione looked at him with just the right amount of guilt that he decided to let her off the hook.

           "Seriously, Hermione," he said, his tone now laden with his serious concern. "How's the pregnancy?"

           "It's..." she paused, perhaps trying to decide the right word to use. "It's difficult."

           "You look much better, you know," he said quietly. All that bed rest had done her a big favor. "Tell me, and be honest with me, okay? What exactly is making it difficult? The actual pregnancy, or your absence from work?" He stared her down when it looked like she was trying to evade from his inquiry.

           For once, Hermione was the one who hung her head in defeat. "I guess it's both..."

           "Is it?" Harry knew they needed to address the elephant in the room, otherwise she might never get better. "I think you've become too overinvolved and unnecessarily attached to your jobs," he said finally. Might as well get straight to the heart of it. He mentally prepared for a backlash.

           As expected, Hermione was highly affronted. "How is me handling my jobs perfectly fine an example of over-involvement or attachment?! Are you telling me I can't manage my own affairs? Just because I'm a girl, Harry, doesn't mean I'm not capable of-"

           "Listen to yourself, will you?" Harry cut in loudly. "Where the fuck is all of that even coming from? I didn't even say anything remotely in the same sense as everything you just spouted at me. Why the hell are you so defensive about your career?!"

           "Because I'm so sick of being told that I can't do it!"

           "Who even tells you that?" he asked, suddenly curious. What stupid person would ever think that Hermione couldn't do anything?

           "Oh don't kid me, Harry!" Hermione cried exasperatedly, very obviously close to her berserk mode. He'd better watch it. "People always seem to have something to say about what I'm doing wrong, and what I can't seem to do to make it right. As if they'd know!" she added scathingly. "I've got Molly on my back telling me that I should focus on being a mom, and I've got Ginny setting up some impossible standard for working mothers. And Ron just won't quit hounding me about my job, either. As if I didn't get enough shite from the old coots on the Council! And now I've got you against me, too!"

           "They care for you!" Harry said, his voice rising in volume to match hers. "We all do! I don't know about those barmy codgers you work with, but I'm sure as hell that Molly, Ginny, Ron and I are fucking worried about you, but we have no idea how to go about it because you always end up chewing someone's head off before we even get a word in!" He took a deep breath - he hadn't blow up this way in so long. "There's something wrong here, Hermione, and you need a reality check because whatever it, it's affecting everything and everyone around you. I came here to tell it to your face, because I'd rather be the difficult friend instead of the one that doesn't do anything to show he cares." He stopped speaking, having run out of breath. She of all people should know what he was trying to do for her - she had done it quite often during their schooldays. She was his voice of reason then, and now Harry could be hers, even if she didn't want to hear it.

           "Nothing's wrong with following your heart, Mione," he said much softer when she still hadn't responded. "Nothing is wrong with prioritizing your work. But your career is eating you up, and there's hardly anything left of you. And if this keeps up..." he looked towards her still-flat stomach, and she felt even more vulnerable under his gaze. "You stand to lose a lot."

           Hermione's eyes started filling with tears. "I need to be good enough, Harry," she whispered shakily. "I was never good enough. In the Muggle world, sure, I was the weird nerd with the perfect record. But then at Hogwarts, I became the Muggleborn, the Mudblood… it's like no matter how much I achieve, just being me takes me back a hundred steps behind everyone else."

           Harry was surprised. Shocked, even. He had expected some sort of feminist outburst or argument from her, and this development was completely unexpected for him.

           "Are you having me on?" he said. "You _have_ been called the cleverest witch of our age by almost everyone, and that’s because it's true!"

           Hermione let out a breathy sigh. "I need to be on top of my game, Harry. All the time. In the Council, I'm constantly surrounded by older, more experienced wizards who never seem to lose their doubts about my credentials. I need to prove that I'm more than my blood, that I'm more than just that."

           "But you already are," he said softly, wrapping her in a hug. "You don't need to prove yourself to anyone. Do those blokes in the Council -"

           "They hate me," Hermione interrupted. "They always make excuses for why I'm not qualified for legislation, how I couldn't ever be as good as the others...

           "Well bully for those stupid fuckers, because they're not worth your time or attention if they can't get it around their heads just how great you are! I'm surprised this is even a problem, since we pretty much broke apart the old Ministry before putting it back together the right way." Harry swallowed, as everything seemed to click into place in his head. He was sure that Kingsley had pretty much gotten rid of the prejudice within the Ministry since he came into power. After seven years, Harry hadn't come across any hint of the old bigotry in the Ministry except among the Dark wizards they captured. Then he thought about Hermione's tendency to be highly pessimistic. Could she possibly be causing her own grief by unwittingly projecting her own personal doubts on the people around her?

           "You know...I think I finally see what's wrong here," Harry said slowly. "Thing is, you've gotta figure it out on your own. It can't come from me." Finally Harry moved back but kept staring at her, waiting for a reaction. She had none. It kind of unnerved him. It felt weird, him saying so much, and her saying nothing at all. Talk about tables turned.

           "I love you, Hermione. I want what's best for you. It's always different for everyone. For Ginny, being on a broom chasing a Quaffle 16 hours a day brings her so much joy that she brings it home and shares it with me and James. What do you take home with you to share with your family?

           Hermione opened her mouth, no doubt to give him a piece of her mind now that Harry was done, but she was interrupted by Ron's voice calling out to them from his study. "Sorry, you guys, I've got to make a couple more calls for Stone, I'll join you in a bit."

           "It's alright, mate!" Harry yelled back, "I was just about to leave, anyway, it's almost my turn to watch James, he's back at Andromeda's." He grabbed his cloak and was about to leave the foyer when he turned back to Hermione, eyes pleading. "Have a think about it, Hermione, alright? Please," he said, before finally leaving.

 

***

 

           Narcissa hummed while watering the plants in her Tea room, obviously in high spirits. Astoria lounged leisurely on one of the settees, while Draco watched his mother with growing curiosity.

           "Mother, why ever are you doing _that_?" he asked. "Don't the elves usually take care of such tasks?"

           His mother laughed, her voice tinkling with the drops falling from the watering can. "It pleases me to do so, Draco," she answered. "Such simple pleasures make my day seem much more rewarding."

           Draco raised his eyebrow, but settled in one of the chairs near his wife, prepared to focus on the most recent issue of _Potions Today_. He was hoping to gather as much of current information as he could before meeting the two Aurors. He didn't want to appear to Potter that he was lacking in even one small area of the subject. They had reached out to him for help, and Draco would make sure to deliver much more than they had asked for. It was part of his pride, of course, to be able to show Potter that yes, he, Draco, was actually a top-ranking and highly respectable wizard.  One look from his mother, however, and it seemed that he and Astoria were once again about to be given 'the talk' regardless of their obvious disinterest in actually talking that afternoon.

           "Have the two of you discussed the matter yet?" Narcissa asked sweetly, acting as if she hadn't been asking that repeatedly for the last weeks. Draco rolled his eyes, but Astoria surprised him by answering her mother-in-law bluntly, but as politely as she could.

           "Yes, we have, Narcissa, and we have agreed that it is not yet time for us to have a child."

           Draco looked at his wife but remained silent. He and Astoria had indeed been forced to reexamine their original marriage plan, since Narcissa had insisted. Indeed, everyone in the wizarding world knew that traditional Purebloods usually had their first children immediately after the marriage. It was the whole point of family alliances, to have the heirs to carry the bloodlines and last name. However, Astoria had never given the impression that she was ready, so Draco had felt no need to broach the subject.

           When he thought about it though, a part of him, (which had made its presence more obvious as the days went by) had begun to yearn for the only missing piece to his life - an heir. What he couldn't admit even to his wife, however, was that he very much wanted more than just an heir - he wanted a son. Or a daughter. Either way, he suddenly had grown the desire to become someone's father. In hindsight, it was probably just a repressed part of him wanting to completely negate his own father's shortcomings by being the kind of father he never knew he wanted to his own child.

           He was still in the middle of deciding if he would prefer being called 'Father' or allow a more informal 'Daddy' when his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the conversation between his wife and mother as they tried to negotiate and change each other's opinions. With a pang, he remembered that Astoria had just openly said no.

           But he still didn't say anything, of course. He just hoped that she changed her mind very soon. Apparently, Narcissa was not the only one to feel the fluttery sense of excitement at the thought of expecting a child into the Malfoy clan.

           He shook his head and opened his book, forcing himself to tune out the discussion between Narcissa and Astoria, and instead turned the pages to the first piece about neurally debilitating poisons.

 

***

 

           "Harry?" Ginny's voice carried through the hallway and into Harry's study. The sound made James stir from inside his bassinet, and Harry called out, "in here!"

           She walked into the room, still with a slight flush tinting her freckled cheeks. She dropped her Quidditch bag onto one of the chairs and sidled up to where Harry was seated, hugging him gently from behind. "Hi."

           "Hey," Harry said, dropping the forms he had been working on and putting his hands on Ginny's. He enjoyed these small moments between them. They had never been the kind of couple to be rabidly passionate or romantic. They were always much more comfortable with the steady stability of a sincere companionship, without the bells, whistles and drama that most other couples seemed to have. Their relationship, long and solid as it was, felt very much like a favorite jumper - warm and familiar, and highly dependable despite the inevitable unravelling over the years. He and Ginny had overcome quite a lot of issues, and he was glad that they had come through all those times still together.

           Ginny's soft lips brushed the top of his head, and he closed his eyes contentedly. They hadn't had a lot of time together this last month, since she was out most of the day and only stayed over to sleep, leaving before anyone woke. Harry had no idea how she was doing it, but it pleased him to see her so happy and dedicated to her sport. He used his hold on her hands to maneuver her to settle on his lap.

           "I'm glad you got home earlier tonight," he whispered. He hadn't realized how much he missed having her around.

           It seemed she echoed the sentiment, because she leaned down and gave him a surprisingly long and lingering kiss, as if she were putting all of her unspoken feelings into the act. Harry opened himself to her, accepting this rare show of passion and bringing into their kiss his own emotions until both of them were lost in the sensation of being with each other once again.

           Her hands grazed his chest and continued downwards, where she felt his growing bulge. Harry looked her in the eye and saw the fire in them. "I've missed you," she said, as if in answer to a silent question. The kisses continued then, alternating between soft and sweet to hard and deep, making Harry almost forget that they were in his chair, cramped behind his desk, with a sleeping baby just a few feet away.

           "Bedroom?" Ginny asked breathily, once again making Harry wonder if she could read his mind. She'd only said one word, but her voice was hoarse and throaty, full of heat.

           "Fuck, Ginny," he whispered. "You're getting me so hard just talking like that."

           She smiled seductively and pulled him to his feet along with her. They made sure to levitate James behind them as they moved to the bedroom, sharing more kisses on the way. When the bassinet was finally secured, the two of them fell hard onto the bed, where they proceeded to shed each other's remaining clothing.

           As Harry thrust hard into her, again and again, and as she moaned and cried and showered him with kisses, hot and wet, he lost all sense of thought. All he knew was that they were alone, together, in their own world, closed off from everything else. He barely paid attention to the building pressure inside him, or the way that Ginny was clutching him hard while in the throes of pleasure. When he came, hard, he couldn't have remembered his own name as he pushed all of himself into her, letting go of every single thought and feeling the thrum of passion in his ears as he finally fell into her waiting arms, and sleep took hold.

 

***

 

           It was too early for daybreak, but Harry felt Ginny stirring beside him. He turned over to face her, draping his right arm over her slim form. She kissed him, soft sweet pecks that made him want to cuddle all day and never leave the bed.

           "Leaving soon?" he asked, knowing that she had to be back on the training grounds by sunrise. "Geez, what do they even make you guys do that's so top secret and all-consuming? Maybe I should start recruiting from your team," he said, knowing full well that training for the National team was just as hard, or possibly even worse than Auror training. At least the Corps didn't run their recruits into the ground every single weekday for years. The difference, of course, was that Quidditch players put all of their years of hard work into one big tournament, which to Harry seemed to justify all the effort of training years before the League or even the World Cup. Ginny had the perfect drive for it, he thought silently.

           She gave out a deep sigh. "Harry, I wanted to talk to you about something," she said, her tone oddly somber that it worried him a little.

           "Is everything alright?" he asked, concern etched on his face. She couldn't seem to look him in the eye, focusing instead on the window so her back was turned to Harry.

           "Odair has finalized the tournament schedule in preparation for 2006," she said, somewhat matter-of-factly. "So I have to leave the Harpies in order to stay with the rest of the English National Team training pool."

           "I knew that already," Harry said, unable to hide the tone of pride in his voice. Who would've imagined that his girl would be playing for the country in the upcoming World Cup?!      

           "Yes, but-" Ginny sighed again. "I have to stay with the team in China."

           Silence.

           "You know what that means, right?" she asked him, trying to break his sudden silence.

           "Ginny," Harry said, his voice low and guarded. "China is on the other side of the planet! You can't come through the Floo, and you can't be allowed to Apparate or use an international Portkey as often as..." Suddenly her tone made sense. "You're not planning on coming home here, are you?" he asked stonily.

           Her silence answered his question.

           "How long?"

           "Six weeks," she answered tentatively, trying to gauge his reaction.

           Harry drew in a breath and held it. And held it. And held it. Maybe if he passed out, he would wake up and learn this had all been a dream.

           The mother of his child was going away for six weeks without coming home until after.

           Sure she had been away during the day, but she always came home at night. Sure, they barely even met up because she was home late and gone early, but she always come home at night.

           Six weeks.

           "It's a month and a half, Harry, it's-"

           "And that's just alright with you?!" he suddenly exploded, making Ginny wince at his tone. "Are you fucking serious, Ginny? What the fuck do you expect me to do, wait around for you and stop my entire life because you can't even come home to take care of your son?!"

           "Don't you talk to me that way, Harry Potter!" she said, matching his tone. "You know I've been doing my best to do both, and it's fucking tiring but I accept that it's something I'll have to do-"

           "D'you have any idea how much of his life you've already missed, Gin? Do you?" Harry demanded.

           "As if you need to remind me again, thanks," she replied coldly. "Yes, Harry, I am quite aware, and it doesn't make me feel too good about myself. But I also have a life, and this is just another responsibility that I have. You've got your job, and I've got mine!"

           "If you've not noticed," Harry said, "I've moved my entire fucking job here just to be with James. We've both made sacrifices for this, Ginny, but are you sure you're choosing the right ones to give up?!" He paused, then added in a lower voice, "Do I even mean anything to you anymore? Because in the last year, we've barely had the time to be with each other except to put the other to bed, or maybe get in a good fuck while we can. We're not even married and we've already got so many fucking issues to deal with, but you're never here long enough to work them out with me!"

           "Wow," Ginny breathed out. "wow..."

           Neither of them spoke for a while. They hadn't had a row that heated. Granted, this was prompted by her sudden admittance that she was leaving for a month and a half.

           It was Harry who broke the silence. His voice had changed. His demeanor had reduced to that of a huddled old man, full of tired resignation. "I don't know what we're doing here, Ginny," he said morosely, staring at the floor. "Is this-do you even want this? Do you even want to be with me? What have we been doing wrong, Gin? Why aren't we working it out?"

           Ginny was surprised at the sudden shift in Harry's temper. "We have been working it out, Harry," she said softly. "Sure, we don't have the cookie cutter relationship, but... we've worked hard on this, maybe even harder than other people."

           "Yeah, but why do we have to work harder at this than everyone else?" he said, finally voicing out one of his greater sources of doubt. "I can't help but think that this life isn't really the one you want. That I'm not the one you thought you wanted..."

           "Harry, please don't talk like that," Ginny said, tears in her eyes. She scooted as close to Harry as he would allow. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm really sorry, Harry. Please. I love you so much, and I never want you to forget that. I've loved you through every little up and down that we've had, through all the shite we've been through, I love you and James so much... so, so much..."

           "I love you, too, Ginny," Harry said quietly. "I've always loved you, in so many more ways that anyone could possibly imagine. I just can't help thinking that we're doing something wrong, for us to have to go through this much..."

           Again, neither of them spoke.

           "I'll be back right after the six weeks, Harry," Ginny finally said, as they felt the first few rays of the sun slowly break into their room. "We can owl each other, I'll find some way of communicating as often as possible from there. I'll fight the coaches if I have to, I promise, Harry, I just - I don't want you thinking that this doesn't mean anything to me. You- you and James are everything to me, Harry. Believe me when I say that."

           Harry turned and met her gaze, head on. "Will you marry me, Ginny?"

           Who knew silence could be so deafening?

           "Harry I-" Ginny's wand made a shrilling sound, and she waved it to stop it. "I have to go, Harry, I'm sorry, I have to- I- I'll-"

           Harry didn't even bother himself as she hurried out the bedroom. He just closed his eyes and counted to a hundred. He never even knew what number he was on when she had gone. He was deep in his head, in his cupboard under the stairs. He just kept counting. And counting. And counting...

          

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's got quite a mouth on him when he's on a roll, huh? :)


	11. Close Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big chunk in the middle is text-dense, because well... Harry's got a lot to think about. :)

**(Present, 2005)**

           In the unerring way only to be expected from a Slytherin, Draco knew at once that something else was on Potter's mind that day. And it was something bad.

           He was currently sitting with the Savior and the Weasel in one of the more private booths in the back. At 6 o'clock, Viridian's patrons were currently transitioning between the people who came for after-work drinks, and those who were coming to have dinner, so the three of them could enjoy the advantage of less distraction and more privacy during the awkward hours.

           Potter's face, Draco had noticed, was pale and lifeless (if that could be an appropriate word), and the tone of his voice brought about the same amount of excitement as Professor Binns. Neither Potter nor Weasley had mentioned anything other than the case brief, so Draco had been torn between wanting to broach the subject, and staying politely silent but desperately wanting to smack him upside his head. Wisely (or maybe not), he elected to remain oblivious to whatever problems Potter had, so now he was stuck in a conversation about murders and arrests. He still wanted to hit him, though.

           The two Aurors were currently in the process of giving him a thorough briefing on the case. To the outside world, it was just one of the owners entertaining a couple of friends at his pub. But that was only because of the extensive list of privacy wards around themselves, of course, combined with the _Solum Sanctuarii,_ thereby guaranteeing that they wouldn't be noticed or overheard while speaking in confidentiality.

           "So," Weasley was saying, "the only actual suspect we've got in custody is Hal Pince, but unlike the ones we've apprehended in the past, he'd had a mental failsafe in the form of a custom-cast Memory Charm placed on him in advance. The Obliviators still haven't been able to conclude if it was a modified Obliviate, or something new and unheard of."

           Potter nodded, still speaking in his History of Magic voice. "It was effective. It was activated independently right after we had caught him. At first we didn't think it would help him, because usually the Obliviators can unblock even a complex Memory Charm. In this case, however, the actual memories were gone, with no chances of being recovered so far. It's worse than the one Lockhart got, because at least he had residual traces of his past, and the ghosts of old habits are still present in him even now. In Pince's case though, it was almost surgical, really precise. The only memory we managed to retrieve was this, we think it's a list of ingredients." He handed Draco a copy. "The Obliviators believe that this wasn't erased because it held no personally incriminating significance to Pince."

           Draco perused the list. "You're correct," he said, "this does resemble a typical potion recipe, though the names...hold on." He took a moment to gather his thoughts, since the Slytherin in his had been taught to visit all angles and possibilities immediately. "Has it occurred to your team that this may have been left intact in his memory in the first place? On purpose?"

           "Yes, that was one of the possibilities we considered," said Weasley. "But our team went overtime with the MMI mind-exploration."

           Potter handed over another sheet of parchment over to Draco. "Here's a map of Pince's mind. After our particular brand of interrogation, which includes much more thorough analyses and cross-referencing, we concluded that his personality resembles that of someone who is at fault, and obviously guilty, but also showing more fear and intimidation than can be found from our working model of a typical mastermind."

           Draco picked up on the hint. "You don't think he's in charge of anything." he concluded matter-of-factly.

           "Exactly," Potter said, nodding. "He doesn't even seem like he was in the center of information, but more along the fringe of whatever nefarious plans the real mastermind has in store." Draco noticed the brunet pause as if uncomfortable with what he was about to say. "Er, actually, he reminded me more of, er, Pettigrew."

           "Ah," Draco nodded noncommittally, understanding that this made his ex nemesis unsure of what to say. "Yes, that sounds just about right, that man was never in the heat of things, the useless bastard, but he did have the occasional exposure to actual relevant information. How very fitting for a man who was, quite literally, a rat." He was trying to make it sound off handed and casual for the sake of Potter, and it seemed to have worked a little, as the Auror's lip twitched as if he were trying not to smirk.

           "Yeah," Ron said in agreement, "we think Pince is the same thing. Pettigrew had been more of a footman or a mere servant, but he held the key to the Dark ritual that brought Voldemort a new body. We at the MMI think that Pince has been kept out of the loop, but may have highly significant information, despite the fact that he himself might not be aware."

           Potter's voice had begun to come out from the lifeless drawl it had been the whole night, and Draco noticed that there was more passion to his words now. "We think that he wasn't given much importance within their group, but it seems that his capture has caused the mastermind to fear what he could tell us. The custom-made Memory wipe certainly showed how desperate they were to ensure that he would not share any of his incriminating activities. Luckily for us, they missed one small part, which may be the key for us after all. That's usually the biggest mistake anyone ever, ever does, you know. Taking someone for granted."

           Draco thought about that, reflected the slight heaviness in the tone of voice. Potter was obviously speaking from experience. It made him wonder if he was referring to Voldemort's time, or his run as an Auror, or perhaps something else that he just had no idea about. "I never would have thought it was a common occurrence," he said lightly.

           "Oh, you'd be surprised," Potter said. "The Ministry underestimated Pettigrew," he said. "Even I made the mistake of letting him go once, and we all know how that got out of hand." He looked Draco in the eye, and held his gaze. "I won't make the same mistake. I'm sure that Pince holds the key to unravelling this series of murders. "And right now, as much as I'd hate to admit it, you're the key to our investigation."

           "Malfoy," Ron said, "we need your help to figure out what the ingredients are, and what they could possibly be made into."

           "Yes, I surmised as much," Draco drawled.

           "Well, we know that it's really difficult to work on so much conjecture" Potter added, "and it's asking a lot from you. None of our resident potion experts were able to crack it. You're at the top of the list of Potions Masters in the entire continent now, and if you can't solve it, I don't think anyone else can."

           Draco heard the slightly begrudging way that Potter had said this, but he understood praise when he heard it. "This requires first distinguishing what the ingredients are, and then exploring every avenue of the magical characteristics of said ingredients, and then determining how they can all be used in conjunction with each other, and thus figuring out the possible nature of the hypothetical potion."

           "Is it doable, then?" Weasley asked, sounding desperate.

           "More importantly," said Potter, "do you actually think following this angle will add to the investigation?"

           "Yes and yes," Draco replied immediately. "I admit that it will be very difficult to begin, because as you know, we will be working from so much theory and assumption with regards to the ingredients and how they could be used. But yes, it is 'doable', as you so elegantly put it, Weasley. Not to brag, but only those who have studied the art and science of Potions Making beyond what is expected can understand the very nature of magical ingredients and the subtle way they interact, even in theory. And yes, Potter," he looked pointedly at the brunet across from him, "this could narrow down your investigation and hopefully lead to the capture of the real mastermind. Should we fail, then at the very least, you will still have a better idea of where to investigate next."

           "So are you in?" Weasley asked.

           For a moment, Draco felt as if he were in another world, where he was best mates with these two Aurors, and they were sharing a few rounds and some witty banter at the end of a long day at work. Somehow, that picture was so absurd to him, despite the fact that he was still sitting with his two most loathed enemies, having drinks and a top secret mission, working together to help stop a string of grisly murders.

           "Malfoy? Draco?" Potter inquired, slightly worried when the blond hadn't responded the first time. The use of his given name brought Draco back to reality, and, for reasons he could not fathom, it helped to steel his resolve.

           "Yes," he said, nodding his assent. "I'll get right on it."

 

***

 

           Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was dark and austere, but it was where Harry found some of the peace he'd needed. On a whim, he had packed a trunk for both him and James, and announced to Kreacher that they would be staying for a few weeks. The old elf was elated to be serving Harry once again, since he hadn't particularly enjoyed staying at Hogwarts when he knew his Master was trying to manage his own home without his assistance. In just a day, Kreacher had buffed and polished every possible surface of the old Black House, and welcomed Harry and his son with a wide smile and a warm meal, both of which Harry appreciated.

           After making sure to divert all his calls and mail from his flat to Grimmauld Place, he settled James' bassinet in his room (he adamantly refused to keep him in a separate bedroom while he slept) and carried his son to the drawing room, where a cheery fire had been stoked by Kreacher. For the first time in a while, Harry felt relaxed and calm. He knew that Hermione would probably berate him for having Kreacher serve him again, but at that moment he couldn't care less. It was just him and his son, and he needed all the help he could get without bringing any more people into his business.

           He absent-mindedly played with the tufts of hair on James' head. It was a rich chocolate brown, not as jet black as Harry's, and not as reddish as his mother's. With a pang, his thoughts went straight to his current source of numbness.

           Ginny had been gone for three days before he realized he couldn't stand being in the flat alone. He couldn't even make heads or tails of his own feelings, because to be honest, he had managed quite well without noticing them for the first half of his life. Back then, anything remotely 'bad' that he felt could be solved by sitting in his cupboard and counting to a hundred. He had seen someone do that on the telly when he was about 8, and he had wondered if it would really 'make things better'. To his delight, it did in fact make a difference, primarily because it gave him something to focus on in order to remove whatever bad mood he had after a punishment from his aunt and uncle, or a nasty beating from Dudley. It was one of the things he had continued out of habit without even thinking about it, and neither Ron nor Hermione were aware of it. Both his best friends knew that Harry could sometimes blow up if angered to breaking point, but mostly he had always been quiet and introspective when he was troubled. They never knew that in his head, Harry was simply always counting to a hundred.

           He had done his counting the morning Ginny had gone, and it worked for just a bit, until he went down to the kitchen in a daze. She had left him a hasty note, saying that the team were going to China the next day, and that she would do her best to reach them. For the first few days, it had been quite odd, with her long-distance Floo-calling, asking about Harry's day and how James was doing, and sharing her experience so far in such a foreign country. Their conversations were a little stilted and too civil, but that was only to be expected after such an awkward parting. Nevertheless, it was obvious that they had both wanted to clear the air, but neither had the desire to bring it up and ruin their tentative ceasefire. Anyway, James was just as happy babbling senselessly to his mother through the fire as in person, and Harry was glad that his son at least seemed to be alright with the current arrangement. Ginny's face had fallen slightly when he mentioned that they were staying for a while at Grimmauld. She seemed to wonder why their flat wasn't a very good place for Harry to be at the moment, but she told him she understood and left it at that.

                     

           Despite Sirius' endless complaints about the house, Harry felt quite at home within its walls. It had, after all, been the first 'real' home he had that was his own, and despite the ghosts of the war and the darker memories of the Order of the Phoenix, he found that he preferred to link it instead to his godfather, and the fond memories he had of their short but significant time together. It made him feel like her were truly coming home to someone, just being here. Having James with him this time filled him with an odd mixture of joy and sadness, unable to help but imagine that it would be like this if he and Sirius had had a normal life together in this very house.

           No matter how much Harry wanted to deny it, he really did miss Ginny. Despite the fact that she had only spent nights at their flat for the last few years, they really had built a steady and dependable routine that they both worked well with. Of course, the one thing that had changed their lives was James, since before his birth they had been quite comfortable to give each other the space they needed. It had been the same way since the war, Harry thought, looking back at how they had developed as a couple.

           They had both experienced near-death first hand, so the two of them had the tendency to celebrate the simplest pleasures and find joy in the most ephemeral moments. That was how they were in sixth year, stealing away to snog in dark alcoves, or sitting by the lake and talking of their dreams, punctuating serious heart-to-hearts with a few jokes in between. They never felt the need to cling or nag, since they both had gotten used to the idea that there was so much more to take care of outside of their relationship. Even their breakup didn't bring up negative feelings, because it had been necessary at the time. One of the things he had loved about her was that there was never any regret after the fact, because they had broken up with the utmost understanding of what the other needed to accomplish. Harry was grateful that Ginny had fully supported him during the war, especially during the Horcrux hunt. He remembered how difficult it had been for him to be huddled in his bunk in the middle of the night, Ron and Hermione's steady breathing echoing in their tent. He remembered the ache in his gut while watching Ginny's dot in Hogwarts, he had been so happy just knowing she was still alive.

           He couldn't imagine what it had been like for her, returning to a Voldemort-controlled Hogwarts, going against Snape and trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor for Harry, taking punishment and dishing it out with equal fervor, and readily fighting on his side at the final battle. And the whole time, she had known nothing about his whereabouts, his safety, or even his plans. She had gone through the year just going on whatever was speculated on Potterwatch, and then she had seen him seemingly dead in Hagrid's arms. Harry recalled seeing her unmoving in the Chamber of Secrets, the dread he had felt when he thought he had come too late. It had never been easy for the two of them, he mused bitterly. But that was why they had worked so well together for years - they had gone through almost the same things, together and apart. They had lost family, they had their minds and souls invaded by Voldemort, and they both had had a lot to live up to. They shared the passion for Quidditch, the immense dislike for anything ostentatious and unnecessary. They fit together, both in the big things as well as the tiny details. It just made sense for them to be together.

           After all of the trauma from the war, Harry and Ginny had easily reunited, falling back into their relationship as if the break had never happened. Getting engaged, Moving in, having a child together... Now, though, this one big shared responsibility seemed to be breaking down their comfort zone.

           Harry had learned early on to take each day as it came, so he didn't experience sudden life changes like everyone else. Growing up with Dursleys, who were quite quick to change moods for almost no reason at all, he had learned to deal with anything without question. When he learned he was a wizard, he was surprised but obediently followed a gigantic stranger to unknown parts of London. When he found out that some crazed criminal was his godfather, and not quite a crazy criminal after all, he had taken it in stride. When he found out he was a fucking Horcrux, well, he had willingly walked to his own death. Even when he found out about Ginny's pregnancy, he had seen it as just another surprise to accept into his life with open arms. On the contrary, he could see that Ginny dealt with change a little differently. She had barely spoken to him just because she found out he was the Boy Who Lived. It took her another three years just to get over that and finally become comfortable in Harry's presence.

           Having James had been a complete life changer for her, who had never had to be responsible for anyone else but herself. Harry of course, had _always_ been responsible for the well-being of someone else, whether it be the Dursleys, his best friends, or the entire world. Caring for his own son was a very welcome addition to Harry's list of responsibilities; for Ginny, it was a first.

           That, he thought, was most likely the crux of their problem. He leaned back into the couch, little James cooing in his lap, and waited for Ginny's scheduled Floo-call.

 

***

 

           Draco had stayed true to his word; the moment he had gone home, he went straight to the Manor's library, which was home to the vast collection of rare and antique tomes collected and treasured by his ancestors over the centuries. His Mastery of Potions was not just because of his industrious academic and professional endeavors, but also highly dependent on the amazing store of knowledge his family had provided him with at his very home. It was one of the reasons that he was able to exceed the expectations of any potioneer. While many more practitioners now relied on the newest and most updated information for innovation, Draco had appreciated early in life that there was a lot of old theory to be found in older works, which to him opened up even more possibilities for Potions to be learned and relearned, understood and reworked, straight from the oldest masters and their personal notes. He never divulged this secret of his that Severus had taught him well - progress could always be gained by looking back and looking at the roots. That's how he elected to approach Potter's mystery recipe.

           Taking out the list, he perused it and made marks next to each item - a systematic set of symbols he had developed to help himself keep track of magical properties and other characteristics. In Potions, it was very difficult to categorize ingredients, as there was much overlap among even the most varied items. Draco's personal symbols allowed him to note many things at once, allowing him to observe patterns that he may have missed the first time.

           There were 27 items listed, in no particular order. As Potter had said, there seemed to be no logic to the list except for the quantities indicated to the left. It was very detailed, considering that it had been taken from a memory. Draco thought it meant that Pince had seen it more than once to have it retained with this much information.

           It took him most of five hours, which consisted of much cross-referencing, crossing out notes, crossing over to different shelves, getting cross-eyed, and being irascibly cross, but he was finally able to at least narrow down how the item names were created. It most resembled an archaic shorthand from Scandinavia, and Draco was sure that none of the resident potion masters at the Auror Corps had access to the manuscripts his great-grandfather had kept in one obscure corner of the library. From there, he was able to transliterate the items and note which category they most probably belonged to. The excitement and pride he felt at making two conclusions in just one day made him so smug and ecstatic, and he rushed to the drawing room to contact Potter immediately.

           The Chosen One had given Malfoy access to his Floo for the duration of his investigation in order to exchange, and told him to feel free to Floo him anytime if and only if he had made a significant discovery. It was only 11 o'clock, so Draco had no qualms about bothering Potter. Also, he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he wanted to be smug about it to his face.

           "Harry Potter!" he called into the emerald flames. A disembodied voice rang from the hearth.

           "Redirecting your call to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place."

           Draco raised an eyebrow. Had Potter moved? And why did the address sound faintly familiar? He ignored the burning curiosity, and waited for the Floo call to be connected. At last, there was a roar, and he could clearly see the image of a dark drawing room, with Potter sitting on the couch as if expecting a call at that very moment. He looked confused. It took a couple of seconds until Potter found his voice.

           "Malfoy?!" he cried, surprise evident on his face.

           Draco had no idea what to say. Despite having prepared his smug speech about his cleverness and intellect, he had been distracted by Potter himself. Now that the smoke from the flames cleared, he saw that Potter was incredibly tense. Curious to see what had him suddenly guarded, Draco looked at Potter's arms, which looked like they were trying to wrap around thin air. That was odd. He shook his head and came back to his senses.

           "Potter, I'm sorry- I didn't-I know it's late but-" he stammered, about to cut the connection.

           "No, no, it's okay, Malfoy," Potter said quickly. "I just wasn't expecting- anyway, never mind, I-" he took a deep breath. "Is it about the investigation?"

           "Yes!" Draco said, excitement shining in his eyes. "I've only started, Potter, and I've already figured out two possible leads for you to work on! It's based on- why are you holding your arms out like that?" he asked suddenly. He couldn't help it, it was a distracting sight. He was surprised that Potter seemed to become even tenser at his words.

           "None of your business, Malfoy," the brunet said in a low voice. "You were saying?"

           "Yes, well, I've figured out that majority of the items are categorized under botanical ingredients, which have a short life span. You can't use botanical ingredients unless they're fresh, which means that if we figure out what the items are precisely, you'll be able to track down any recent transactions for them."

           Potter's interest seemed piqued at the possible new lead. He liked having something for his team to do on the field. "Anything else?"

           "Do you really have to put your arms up in that ridiculous manner, Potter?" Draco insisted. "It's rather distracting."

           "Anything else?" Harry repeated, ignoring his comment completely.

           Draco relented. "Yes, the items were transliterated from an archaic labelling system from old Scandinavia."

           Potter scrunched his face in thought. "Does that mean anything for the Aurors?"

           "Yes," Draco replied. "It's a system not widely used in the last century, and I only managed to work it out because our library happened to have original manuscripts written in the same style. It wasn't common though, not even in northern Europe, which means the guys you want have some sort of direct link to that part of the world, possibly someone with a direct inheritance of family history there."

           "Wow..." Potter was almost whispering to himself. "Malfoy, that's- that was amazing, thank you for calling immediately!"

           "Well, that's all I've found for now, so don't get your hopes up too much," Draco drawled, but clearly pleased at the sincere praise in Potter's voice.

           "Mate, you've gathered more information from that piece of parchment in half a day than my team did for the last four weeks. Looks like I made the right call."

           Draco raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smug smile on his face. "Are you saying you were doubting my skills?"

           Potter laughed, surprising Draco. He seemed to struggle a bit with his arms, though it might have been because they must be tired from being held up for so long without support.

           "Of course, I doubted you, you git," Harry said, somewhat cheekily. "I think it goes against our very nature not to keep competing with each other."

           Draco laughed as well. He knew exactly what he meant. "One thing you got right, Potter."

           "Hey, er-" Potter suddenly looked embarrassed. "Is there anything else you need to tell me, or-?"

           "Oh," Draco said. "No, that was everything I'd figured out."

           "Okay," Poter nodded. "I'd hate to be rude, but see, I am sort of expecting an important call, and you're blocking my Floo," he finished sheepishly.

           "I see. My apologies, then" Draco said, now understanding why Potter had appeared to be waiting for him by the fire. "Well, thanks for taking my call anyway, Potter. I'll send you anything else I discover tomorrow."

           "Thanks, Malfoy," Potter said, still smiling. "Have a good night." With that, the connection closed, and Draco moved away from the hearth.

           That hadn't been too bad of a conversation between them, so he felt rather good about it. He couldn't get over Potter's arms though! One thing he hated was not being able to make sense of something. He truly despised being ignorant. Especially where the speccy git was concerned.

           It was only when he was in bed that he had thought again about his call. The way Potter's arms were up and appeared to struggle, as if he were holding something.

           Something moving.

           Could he have been holding onto something invisible? That would explain why he could hold the position for so long.

           Draco looked at the image of Potter in his mind's eye. He'd always had a very good memory, and it'd come useful many times before. That was when he actually noticed the unique positioning of the arms. It was similar to what Pansy had taught him, when she insisted that he hold her-

           Her _baby_.

           “No way,” he said out loud into the empty bedroom. “No _fucking_ way.”

           Draco remembered the _Solum Sanctuarii_. Could it be? Could Potter be hiding much more than himself behind his wards?

          

          

 

 


	12. Don't Ask,  Don't Tell

**(Present, 2005)**        

          A good glass of Ogden's finally brought down Harry's nerves. Immediately after he ended his Floo-call with Ginny (who had told him all about the different styles of brooms from Beijing), he had put James to bed in order to have some much-needed quiet time to himself.

          The surprise call from Malfoy had certainly shaken him up, there was no doubt about it. It had been unnerving to see the blond's face through the emerald fire, staring straight at James. At first, Harry had feared that his privacy bindings had failed, and he spent a good five seconds internally checking all the wards he had put on his son. Thankfully, however, Malfoy showed no indication of having sensed James' presence, though he did repeatedly worry Harry by pointing out his arms.

          From experience, Harry knew that the _Solum Sanctuarii_ achieved his privacy by distorting the way people perceived reality. Every single time that he took James out for a walk to the park, anyone he wished to remain oblivious would not sense James in any way. Or sometimes, when Harry wanted to enjoy the experience of being father and son on a nice day out, he would adjust the bindings on both of them so that people would see them and be able to talk to them, but remain ignorant of who they really were. That way, it wasn't so depressing for him, since he got to talk to other parents (mostly Muggles) and allow them to fawn over his own son while he admired theirs. He didn't get to do this often, but he felt much lighter whenever he did, simply because he liked the idea of being normal. More often than not, he had to resort to the full sensory block on James just to be sure.

          The funny thing about that was, it was dependent on the people around Harry. He didn't have control over what they thought, but their own minds came up with various explanations for whatever Harry wanted unseen. Once, he had brought James with him under a full set of privacy wards, and no one even noticed anything out of the ordinary. Not even one witch, who had merely commented on the weather after bumping into him. So the fact that Malfoy even noticed Harry's awkward arms around James had shaken him, and it left him tense all throughout the call.

          Harry thought back to the time last year, when he and Ron had met Malfoy at Viridian the first time. Despite the bindings around them, the blond had, in fact, been able to notice them after Ron's outburst. To be fair, Harry had ensured that the _Solum Sanctuarii_ around him would permit trustworthy family and friends. This probably meant that Malfoy himself was unwittingly included in the list, being a former schoolmate, current acquaintance and now a confidential colleague. It also meant, Harry realized, that he was trustworthy.

          He drained the last of the Firewhiskey and sent the glass to the sink. He felt much better now after the Ogden's, and despite the odd experience with Malfoy, he could now be properly elated at the news that the potions master had brought him. The case would finally move forward, which meant getting closer to the culprit. Putting his faith on Malfoy's skills had proven to be a good call, and he was glad that it wasn't in vain.

          As he settled himself into bed, his last thoughts were still on his former nemesis. He knew Malfoy was one of the sharpest wizards he knew, and he hoped that the wards on James would work on him as effectively as it had on everyone else. In any case, the attention he had given Harry's arms was possibly because he was already quite perceptive, even when he wasn't trying.

          Harry sighed into his pillow. This was the first time in years that he had felt truly vulnerable, and it scared him, but there was obviously just something left of the old rivalry between him and Malfoy that left him feeling odd. He turned over in bed, feeling restless. The best thing to do was just to treat Malfoy as normally as possible, as if nothing strange had happened. _Just focus on the job to be done, that's all_ , he thought.

          Finally reminding himself that it was not something to lose sleep over, given all his other serious problems, Harry finally allowed himself to drift off. His dreams that night were a blurry mix of baby James and Malfoy, and of the two of them playing together in the park, but all of that was forgotten by the time Harry awoke the next morning.

 

***

 

          It took most of the day, but Draco had finally resolved his inner conflict by deciding to pretend as if he hadn't just made the biggest discovery of all time. It wasn't as if he had sufficient evidence to fuel his suspicions, but his acute level of perception (developed by his father, of course) had never failed him. He had thought it over again and again in his head, using both inductive and deductive reasoning, and he was quite confident that Potter was definitely hiding something big, and that the most possible probability was that he had at least one child, and was keeping it completely secret.

          Draco had thought about that angle as well. He knew enough of Potter to guess that he was a family man, but he couldn't imagine how odd of a life that would be, to hide away your family in a box and stuff it in a corner where no one could find it.

          _Maybe that was why he always has that sad-puppy look about him?_ he wondered to himself.

          He realized he harbored a little anger at Potter if it turned our that he did in fact choose such a fate for his own family. Draco would have been overjoyed at having an heir, be it a son or daughter. He would be proudly flaunting his child in everyone's face, he would always take them out with him so that the world could see what it meant to be perfect, and people everywhere would marvel at the miracle of such a beautiful baby. He and Astoria would open their hearts to the wizarding world and allow every witch and wizard to bask in the glory of the new generation of Malfoys.

          Then he realized that the Potter he knew at school hated attention. He hated when people gave him any notice, and he hated when everything he did was reported to the rest of the world. Of course, back at Hogwarts, Draco had no idea, but the acquaintance he kept with Potter over the years was sufficient to break his school-time assumptions about the Golden Boy. And he probably guessed right that Potter would have wanted to keep his Golden Babies away from such attention.

          It made sense, Draco realized, from Potter's perspective. But definitely not Draco's. He had recently come to accept the fact that he wanted to finally have a family with Astoria, to hold his son or daughter in his arms and to whisper sweet nothings in the baby's ear as he rocked it to sleep. If his conjectures were true, then Potter was a lucky bastard, and no one even knew it. It made Draco seethe a bit, knowing that it was highly likely that Potter had one thing he didn't. He couldn't hold it against him, of course, but the old rivalry was surfacing in the worst situation possible, and it took all of his willpower to counter such envious thoughts. He was better than that, and he would show Potter. He was also mature now, and would not stoop down to snooping around just to find out more about Potter's dirty little secret. If the Chosen One chose to keep things under wraps, well then let him.

          It had taken most of the day, but Draco had finally resolved his inner conflict. He decided to move on from his realizations and continue to treat Potter as best he could within the professional sphere, and to show the man that he treated the case very seriously. He just had to act as if he had never made his big discovery. Slytherin training be damned, Draco owed Potter his life and freedom, and he would pay it back with his silence.

 

***

 

          "Did Macmillan have anything new today?"

          Ron's question hung in the air while Harry bit into a sandwich and chewed. Unable to swallow fast enough, Harry resorted to nodding his head while busy with his BLT. When he finally gulped down his mouthful, he cleared his throat before standing up to join Ron on the larger conference table in the corner of their office.

          "See here," Harry said, pointing at a particular parchment filled with various tables and lists. "He told me that these particular apothecaries are the most sought after for higher quality botanical ingredients."

          "How many more has Malfoy deciphered so far?" Ron asked, looking through another set of papers, this time with classifications of plants. About a third had been marked in red, to show which ingredients the potions master had already narrowed down in the last two weeks.

          "He's found three more," Harry replied, quietly Summoning the last letter that the blond had sent him. "Here you go. He says he's found the first non-botanical ingredient, but that it's too common and can't be easily tracked down like the first ingredients he gave us."

          Ron perused the letter, crossing out the corresponding ingredients on the list he had. "Clever prat," he muttered, his tone full of admiration. Harry knew that even Ron admitted how much Malfoy was helping this particular case. In fact, he had only been working on the formula for only three weeks, and so much information had already been narrowed down despite the large margin for speculation. After weeks of feeling stagnant, Harry was beginning to an end to their previously lost cause. And Malfoy had a lot to do with it, which meant he owed the blonde. A lot.

          Despite Harry's worries after the odd Floo Call, Malfoy seemed oblivious to how close he had come to unravelling his biggest secret, and he was grateful. The two of them had now gotten more used to having to work around each other, either by Floo or owl post. Meeting in person was still too risky for either of them, though Ron had pointed out that Grimmauld Place would be sufficiently private enough for them to converse in person should the need arise. Harry agreed, but so far, the fire calls and the owls were working well enough as a means of communication.

          "Does this name seem familiar to you?" Ron asked, breaking Harry's reverie. The brunet looked at the ingredient his deputy was indicating with the tip of a quill.

          " _Styrbar plommon_? No, not a clue."

          "The translation of the translation, you idiot," Ron said, pointing at the words scribbled next to Malfoy's original transliteration.

          Harry read it out loud. "Dirigible Plum...Dirigible Plum!" He turned towards Ron, suddenly excited. "No fucking way!"

          Ron laughed. "I remember Luna's dad telling us how rare they were, and that he had only managed to get seeds by going somewhere far..."

          "Up north," Harry supplied, remembering the old man's enthusiastic retelling of his adventures. "Somewhere in Sweden, I think. Luna's boyfriend, Rolf, he was the one who told me that Xeno was actually telling the truth."

          Ron's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Malfoy was in the right direction from the start, mate! This reinforces the fact that all of this has some sort of root in old Scandinavia."

          Harry nodded. He hadn't felt this restless in a long time, and he wanted to spring into action. However, he also knew that going Gryffindor was not the best tactic in his line of work - he had to be more Slytherin in order to outwit the wizards he was hunting. "Send that new information over to Macmillan's team," he instructed Ron. "I want them to narrow down the traders who still personally procure the stuff they sell. They'll probably be the specialty apothecaries, the more expensive ones." Malfoy had told him last week that he suspected this was a high-class potion, and that the makers would want only the best organic, hand-picked ingredients.

          Ron took down Harry's orders, shaking his head. "Seriously, Harry," he said, shaking his head, "I can't wait to get these stupid arseholes. Especially since they sound all self-righteous and spoiled." Harry silently agreed. Too many innocents were already murdered, though thankfully the masterminds had not caused any disturbance in the last month.

          "We'll get 'em, Ron," he assured his best friend. "In the meantime, let's hope that Malfoy clears up the rest of the list and finds out what they're for." He didn't say all of his thoughts out loud. How else would Ron have reacted if Harry admitted that he was looking forward to hearing from Malfoy? The man always had new information for the case, and Harry couldn't help but share his enthusiasm at getting to the bottom of the murder case. For the first time, Harry realized that he and Malfoy might have much more in common than just Quidditch and the war. What unnerved him more was his urge to find out.

 

***

 

 

          The Malfoy library was littered with bits and pieces of parchment, it looked as if a gigantic Christmas cracker had exploded inside. For the last month, the house elves, fearing Draco's last outburst, had agreed not to clean up after him lest they disturb the organized chaos on the tables and all over the floor. Granted, Draco had always been a neat-freak, and cleaned up after himself. But on occasion, especially during highly-demanding projects such as this, his brainstorming was only improved by allowing his train of thought to travel from the notes he laid around himself. This way, he allowed his mind to build connections or link information that otherwise would have escaped his scrutiny. At the moment, he was the epicenter of a three-foot thick circle of paper scraps, all with some valuable information scribbled. Narcissa and the elves knew not to disturb Draco during these times, so it was to his immense irritation that someone suddenly attempted to break down the library doors with a series of frustrated knocks.

          "I told you NEVER to bother me while I'm working!" Draco bellowed, quite unbecoming of a Malfoy, but at that moment, he didn't even care who was outside the double doors. He had been in the middle of a complicated brainstorming and was so close to filling in one piece of the missing puzzle when he was rudely interrupted. Whatever epiphany he was close to achieving, it all dissolved as soon as his concentration was broken.

          "Draco!" Narcissa's voice called in between all the frantic knocking.

          "I love you, Mother, I really do, but please, GO AWAY."

          "Draco!" his mother shouted this time, which made caught his attention. She never raised her voice that way, especially not to him. "Draco! Come out, please! It's Astoria!"

          All thoughts of the potion formula forgotten, Draco waved away his wards from the library doors and met the pale face of Narcissa. She had obviously come running to him instead of sending an elf, which was also cause for his concern.

          "I'm sorry, Mother," he apologized, now realizing how foolish he must have sounded. "Where is Astoria? Has something happened to her?"

          Narcissa motioned towards the direction of Draco and Astoria's wing and walked briskly at once, leaving her son to hurry in her wake.

          "Mother, please," he begged, now sounding frantic in the face of ignorance. "Tell me!"

          "I'm not quite sure, Draco," Narcissa said, eyes shining with worry. "One of the elves had come across her in your private sitting room, and she wouldn't wake!"

          Draco doubled his efforts and sped up the staircase leading to their suite. In a heartbeat, he was in the bedroom where Astoria had been settled by the house elf who had found her. He sat himself on the bed next to her and roused his wife as gently as he could.

          "Astoria? Darling, are you alright? Astoria, please wake up!"

          Her eyes fluttered a bit, as if she were responding to his voice. After a few more moments, Astoria sat bolt upright, only to be held by Draco firmly in his arms.

          "Oh, darling, I thought something had happened to you!" He pulled her away, hands still clutching her arms, so that they were facing each other. "Tell me, is everything alright? Are you feeling alright?"

          For a while, it seemed that his wife had no words. Being Astoria, it was a bit odd that she had nothing to say for a change, and that worried Draco.

          Finally, she leaned back down on the bed and placed her arms around her, as if hugging herself. "I-" She tried to say. "I fainted."

          Narcissa was beside herself with worry. "Has anything happened, dear?" she asked softly, "did you overtax yourself, or did you-"

          "No, no," Astoria cut her off. "I was talking with-" she stopped herself, which made Draco wonder.

          "Yes? You were talking with whom?"

          "I was talking with-with Healer Lows. In the Floo-"

          "Healer Lows!" Draco cried, now panicking. "Why ever would he have called you at such a time!"

          "Draco..." Astoria's voice was soft but firm, and to Draco it sounded like skates on ice. Her eyes found his, and he saw pleading. "I had gone to St. Mungo's yesterday with a friend of mine, and I had just gone to accompany her. But I ran into Healer Lows, and we decided to have lunch together."

          Draco had no idea where this was going, but his worry prompted him to listen quietly.

          "After eating, I felt sick," Astoria continued. "Nothing too serious, because I've been having such attacks lately, but never anything too serious."

          Upon hearing this, Narcissa seemed to suddenly understand something, and her eyes glinted with something that Draco couldn't place.

          "And what?" he asked, still not sure how this had anything to do with her fainting.

          "He asked if he could place some diagnostic charms on me to find out if I had caught something. You know how those take at least one day before they can be interpreted by Healers?"

          "Yes, yes, to ensure that the readings are accurate. But what-"

          "I'm pregnant, Draco," she whispered. "I'm pregnant, and I only just found out."

 

***

 

          Harry and Ron received individual owls from Malfoy that week, explaining quite formally why he couldn't work on the formula for a few days. He had been quite blunt about the reason, of course, publicity-whore that he was.

         

_It is with my deepest pride to announce that my wife and I are now expecting our first child, and I must therefore take some time off from the case in order to attend to personal matters._

         

          Ron had rolled his eyes good-naturedly after reading his missive, while Harry kept reading his own again and again. He realized that Malfoy had written him a slightly different letter than Ron's.

 

          _Potter,_ he had added, _I believe that you of all people will understand why this is of extreme importance to me and my family. I wish to use my time away to tend to my wife and future child, as I realize only now that they should be my priority. I used to make fun of others for thinking that, but now I know better. Rest assured that I will continue where I left off as soon as this matter settles._

 

          Something inside Harry was stirring, and it made him feel uncomfortable. So what if Draco was going to have a kid? Why did he have to single him out with his letter? He knew that Draco was still outside of the wards around James, so he couldn't know that Harry was actually a father to a one year old. He wondered, therefore, why Draco would think he could understand the need to prioritize family.

          Deep inside, he wondered how it would have been if he had made such a proud announcement when he and Ginny were expecting James. Sure, they had told it to their family and closest friends, but it had been hushed up for James' own safety, and Harry didn't regret it. but reading Malfoy's message brought to his head a picture of the blond and his wife, happily (and exuberantly) celebrating the coming of their long-awaited heir, to the flash of cameras and the scratching of quills. He was sure that this would be on the news, and that witches around the country would be swooning about their adorable little blonde family-

          Did Harry want such a big affair? He had never thought it a possibility that he would become a father so soon, so it wasn't like he had much time to think about how he wanted to handle it. Yes, he wanted privacy. But he had also imagined his small, intimate family spending most days together, snuggled up in front of the fire and roasting marshmallows or drinking hot chocolate or what-have-you. Somehow, he never pictured spending his days with his son, working from home, and exchanging stories with his pseudo-wife over the Floo. He had privacy in mind, but not in the lonely way that his life had panned out to be so far.

          Still, he refused to wallow. He knew that his and Ginny's situation was difficult, but they had had that routine for years, and only James had called for cause to change it up. Harry remembered Dumbledore's words, how it is one's choices that make them who they truly are. He had made promises to Ginny, and she to him, and both of them to James, and they had agreed to do everything they could to work it out without having to sacrifice so much of themselves in the process. It was more difficult than, say, Ron and Hermione. They had two children between them, but they managed because of some help from Molly and Arthur. Harry had too much pride to ask for Molly's help too often, and he took pride in knowing that he himself was caring for his son. It didn't make him any less lonely, though.

          He still had Malfoy's letter clutched in his hand. He had no idea why the blond's happiness had caused him to think of such painful thoughts, but he nevertheless reminded himself not to focus on the negative. Ginny was coming home in two weeks, and he couldn't wait until they could be with each other again. He felt like a piece of him had gone with her, and he ached for its return.

          He flung Draco's letter onto his desk and brought his attention back to the memories he was preparing for the Pensieve. "Two weeks," he muttered to himself. "Just two more weeks..."

 

***

 

          "I'm not quite sure what you mean, Draco." Pansy's voice was full of doubt, even through the flames. Draco had known her long enough to notice it.

          "I mean, Pansy, that Astoria's been acting a bit... flighty."

          "She's preggers, my wise friend," Pansy drawled. "It's not the easiest thing in the world, you know? It turns angelic little girls into the Devil, I tell you. And I speak from experience."

          Draco shook his head. "Yes, I know you've been popping out your offspring, and living to tell the tale," he said, making sure his tone was light enough so as not to offend his friend. He liked to think they were past that, anyway. "It's not a walk in the park, I know. I've don't my share of reading, Pansy."

          "Sweet of you, then," she said approvingly.

          "I'm worried though," he continued, "she's been acting quite cold, not exactly as I pictured someone who was happy and excited to have their first child."

          "Did you consider 'frantic and anxious and worried about stretchmarks and unimaginable pain' to that idea?"

          "Yes, but-"

          "But what, Draco?" Pansy sighed. "You've always tended to do this, even in school." At Draco's confused look, she raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on, you always used to overanalyze everything, reading it all wrong, and then blaming everyone else for your own mistaken assumptions."

          Draco realized she was partly right. Out of habit, he would analyze and overanalyze and reanalyze, if that was even a word.

          "I'm just worried, okay?" he admitted to the girl, hoping that she would not ridicule him. "I just thought she'd be more, well, cheerful, about it. You know, like you were when you and Wood found out!"

          "Yes, well," she chuckled. "We had been trying for a while, so imagine our joy when we found out. You and Astoria have been pretty busy recently, so you probably just need to get used to the idea. When it sink in, then you both can have the proper celebration you've probably been fantasizing about."

          "I don't fantasize-"

          "Ha! You plan everything out!" Pansy cut off his defense. "I know you too well, Draco, you've probably got this scene in your head playing out what you think should have happened and what should happen. Well, guess what," she looked at her perfectly manicured hands, "pregnancy is a bitch, and it's your first real look into married life. You'll love it, but you'll hate it. Stop focusing too much on your wife's faults and focus on making it easier for the both of you."

          Draco heard a wail coming from behind Pansy.. "Must you go so soon?" he pouted at her jokingly. She returned his look with a grin.

          "Sorry, but duty calls," she said. "I'll call you when I have more time again, I've got the feeling that you'll need my help just to keep your head straight throughout this thing-"

          "This ‘thing' that you speak of is my child," Draco said smugly, "future Malfoy heir and new Prince of Slytherin, so show him the respect he is due."

          His comment made Pansy laugh heartily. "Oh no, a mini-Draco! Merlin help us!"

          After saying goodbye, Draco ended his call and settled into the armchair in front of the fire. Pansy was right. It had only been a week, he realized, much too little time for the gravity to really sink in.

          While deep in thought, his Floo changed color, indicating an incoming call. He waved his hand to open the connection, only to find himself facing none other than-

          "Potter!" he cried, alarmed by the sudden appearance.

          "Hey, Malfoy!" the Auror said conversationally, as if they had planned this conversation.

          "Miss me already?" Draco knew that the MMI had grown to rely on him for the last few weeks, so his being away for a week must have made quite a difference in their output.

          "Truthfully, yes," Potter confirmed Draco's suspicions. "It now feels like everything is moving in slow motion."

          Draco laughed at that. He hadn't expected Potter to be so direct and honest. It was refreshing, to say the least. "Well, is there any particular reason for calling, then?" he asked. "I'm sure I sent you that letter requesting for leave-"

          "Yes, of course," Potter said. "To be honest, though, I just wanted to thank you for that chunk of research you sent in to us with your letter. It's the only reason we're able to keep the investigation up without your direct interference."

          "Oh," Draco said. "Well, it would have been highly irresponsible for me to leave you all hanging with nothing to work with while I was away."

          Potter laughed, perhaps one of the first genuine laughs that Draco had ever witnessed on Potter's face. "Yes, it would have been inconvenient, but almost everyone at the Ministry does it whenever they go on holiday. So I thought it was appropriate to thank you in person."

          "This is through the Floo."

          "Yes, but it's close enough."

          Draco wondered when he and Potter had had such a friendly conversation outside of work. With a pang, he also realized that Potter was probably too guarded to confront people face to face; that he probably relied on the Floo Network to communicate and coordinate with other colleagues.

          "Er," Potter said, realizing that they had been silent. "Anyways, that's about it. We'll see you when you feel ready to get back on stage."

          "Alright," Draco said, already looking forward to cracking the stupid case and waving his success in Potter's face.

          "Oh, and congratulations. To you and your wife. It's a big deal, having your first kid."

          "And you would know?" Draco said without thinking. His heart stopped for a millisecond. Would Potter let slip something more about his own secret, or-?

          Potter just shrugged and gave him an odd smile. Neither confirmation nor denial. "You know, Ron and I were talking about how we could all go to Viridian again for a couple pints. After your 'personal matters' settle down, of course." Potter laughed at Draco's dumbfounded expression. "Don't think too much about it, we just thought it would help us through the tension of the case, as well as your upcoming months of hell-"

          "I hardly think I would be one to resort to drowning my sorrows in alcohol."

          Potter laughed some more. "Let's just say you'll be asking us out for those pints yourself, soon enough. Anyway, goodbye!" Before he could say anything in response, the Floo connection disappeared, leaving Draco with a confused look on his face while he absorbed the fact that Potter had invited him out for drinks.

          Odd as it was, a part of him still felt rebuffed by Potter's rejection of his handshake in their First year. Over the years, he had always counted on just a civil acquaintance with the Chosen One. The last month they had spent exchanging owls and talking on Fire-calls, however, made Draco realize that they could, in fact, be good friends. With Potter and Weasley inviting him into their fold, he felt a bit vindicated somehow. He would deny it, of course, but deep inside, he knew that Potter was silently holding out his hand in friendship, and Draco was more than happy to take it.

         

 

 


	13. Coming Undone

**(Present, 2005)**

         The return of Draco Malfoy to the MMI was cause for celebration, and it became a running joke among the younger Aurors how much had changed since the war for the Corps to celebrate the return of a convicted (and pardoned) ex-Death Eater. Harry and Ron had shared a few laughs, to Malfoy's chagrin, but the office picked up right where it had left off for the two weeks that the potions master was absent.

         Harry had never imagined such a day to come, but there they were, Potty, Weasel and Ferret putting their heads together (though metaphorically for Malfoy, who still could not be seen to be working with them). Malfoy's decision to return only after a fortnight had much to do with the discovery of an old wizard's corpse. Once again, the diagnosis was consistent with the other murders that were piling up under this mysterious potions case, and Kingsley himself had told Harry that most of the Ministry had grown dependent on the skills of his department, that they were awaiting for the day that Harry's team would finally get the arsehole who was causing so much trouble. As if the pressure hadn't been enough yet.

         Thankfully, Malfoy had finally translated the previous translations he had made, and the team was now much more productive in tracing the various shipments of botanical ingredients from Sweden into Britain. Now, Harry and Ron were cross referencing the list of apothecaries that had recently stocked and sold corresponding proportions found in the recipe. Just that small amount of information meant that the list was now narrowed down to six proprietary shops located around London, which was where most of the murders had taken place. The 7 victims had nothing in common as far as the Aurors could tell, except for the fact that they were dead. Harry, therefore, was placing all his hope on Malfoy figuring out what the potion was for in order to better understand what the Dark Wizards were after.

         Once again, he was waiting in his study for Malfoy's owl. The blond was always out and about, away from any Floo. They had therefore been exhausting their owls with the frequent exchange of letters over the last few weeks, but Harry liked to think that he and Malfoy had the same work ethic. Despite not having any personal links to the case, Malfoy had been nothing but hardworking, and the other Aurors (and even Ron) had begun to admire his determination. Even the resident potioneers had taken to asking him about his experiences in Europe, or his take on several new theories on the Wolfsbane Potion. He had earned the respect of every individual in the Auror Corps, and Harry felt a bit proud of the blond git, though he kept it to himself. He had always scoffed at Malfoy's overzealous vanity, which was usually mentioned at least once a week on the Prophet, but he felt relieved to know that the accomplishments in Potions Mastery were for real, and he, Harry, would be hard pressed to find anyone as good at it than Malfoy. Now he definitely understood why the Department of Mysteries were 'extra protective of their secret consultant - he was worth the trouble.

         Malfoy's owl came soaring into the window, landing on the desk with practiced ease. Harry handed it some owl treats before taking the letter from its leg. Upon reading, he couldn't help but let out a guffaw.

        

         _Potter_

_Yes, since 'Linnaea borealis' is nationally considered scarce in Great Britain, they probably had to procure them elsewhere. Tell Macmillan to look for traders near the Alps, they might be able to point you to the London shops that still sell Linnaea in secret._

_Also, you were right. Those pints are starting to sound good right about now. How about you and Weasel meet me at Viridian for those drinks you promised? 8 o'clock, tonight?_

_DM_

 

         After checking in with Ron via Floo, Harry hastily scribbled out a reply and sent off the letter. Then he sent off his own owl with another letter for Andromeda, asking if she could take James for the night. He would have asked Molly, but he was sure that she already had her hands full with Hugo and a pregnant Hermione.

         He decided to take a break and went to the corner of his study, where James was playing quite happily with blocks in his play pen. Harry took his son in his arms and playfully bounced him up and down, sometimes throwing him up in the air and catching him again. The baby was ecstatic, and Harry had the feeling they would have another Quidditch player in the family, it was practically inevitable.

         "I feel much better now, you know" he said to James, laughing at himself for talking to his son as if he could understand a word he said. "Daddy's going to have a good night out with your Uncle Ron and you'll be with Auntie Andy. You'll get to play with Teddy all day! And what's more, Mummy's coming back tomorrow, and we'll all get to be together again!" Harry held his son closer, snuggling into his chocolate hair. The little boy's grubby hands held fast onto his father's robes, giggling when Harry threw him up into the air again.

         The laughter reflected in Harry's eyes, his mood definitely better. He and Ron would definitely need tonight to unwind after the last month, and he was quite curious to hear what Draco had to say about his first few weeks as a dad-to-be. He had a feeling that tomorrow was going to be a big day, what with Ginny's return home, so he wanted tonight to rest and recharge. He and Ron had at least agreed that Malfoy was an excellent drinking companion, and they were both looking forward to their night out with the Ferret.

 

***

 

         "Darling!" Astoria called out. "Please, would you handle those for me?"

         "Of course, love," Draco replied tenderly. He had just arrived at the Manor, and was still at the front door when the parcels arrived. "What exactly are these, Astoria?" he asked as he levitated the large boxes from the foyer and into one of the rooms off the hall.

         "Things, for the baby," she said matter-of-factly. "I can hardly go out looking like a whale! So I availed of the catalogue services of several shops all around Europe and had them sent here instead."

         "Europe!" Draco exclaimed, a smile on his face. "Why, darling, you seem to have absorbed my penchant for high standards."

         Astoria sniffed. "Of course our baby deserves no less!"

         "No, he needs the best of the best," Draco agreed, moving to embrace Astoria. She allowed it for a few seconds, melting into his arms, then she stood up and went towards their wing.

         "Draco, love," she called out behind her as she walked away, "would you be a dear and send up the Belgian truffles? One of the elves Apparated it once and it just tasted awful after, they're much better untouched by their magic."

         "Right away, darling!" Draco called out, already heading to the kitchen for the box of confectioneries.

         Pansy hadn't been kidding about the mood swings and cravings. Just the last week, Astoria had Draco running all over the place to get her what she wanted, and he happily obliged. He had grown up watching his father treat his mother like a queen, and now he knew what it felt like. He wanted to shower her with his affection, wanted to make sure she got everything that she every needed. He supposed part of it was his own excitement at becoming a father, and he made sure to show her everyday how much it meant to him. Their alliance had still gone strong, even after three years, and he felt that their relationship was definitely a step up from the usual Pureblood marriages. Now that they were going to have an heir of their own, well, he felt like he had everything he had ever wanted, and so focused on making sure that his wife had hers, too. It was a small price to pay.

         Still, it had been tiresome, catering to the random whims of a woman running purely on hormones. He laughed to himself as he took the chocolates up to their bedroom. If Pansy had heard him say that, she would have hit him upside the head with her diaper bag. All in good fun, of course. He laughed when Astoria basically grabbed the box from his grasp the moment he had stepped into the bedroom.

         "Don't you dare laugh at me, Draco Malfoy," she warned jokingly. "I've been told to eat for two, you know, and I don't intend to skimp on the quality."

         "Of course," Draco said, shaking his head and settling on the bed next to her. "Are you feeling tired?"

         Astoria nodded. "I felt faint earlier, though nothing too bad. The Healers have told me that it might be because of my light meals. They've told me to try and eat more. It might also be due to the weather, since I'm more used to the warmer climes of France."

         Draco thought for a moment. "Would you like me to adjust the temperature within our wing? Would it make you more comfortable?"

         "It would!" she exclaimed, her expression brightening. "Why have I not thought of that?"

         "Because you take care of 'beauty' while I take charge of the 'brains' part of this marriage," Draco teased, kissing her forehead before getting back on his feet. "Tell me if there's anything else you'll need today, since I'll be out after dinner."

         "Alright," his wife replied, yawning. "Where will you be?"

         "I've invited Potter and Weasley for a few drinks at the Viridian," he said. "It will only be the third time we've been out in public so it won't be suspicious, and all of it under the protection of Potter's wards."

         Astoria merely nodded absentmindedly, and Draco knew that her attention had already transferred to elsewhere.

         "Will you be alright here, without me?" he asked her, voice layered with concern.

         "I'll be fine, darling," she said, waving his worry away with her arm. "Eventually I'll get used to having more time on my hands. There are people I need to Floo anyway, so tonight would be a good time for me to do so. I'm afraid I miss travelling to the continent, but I've been advised to stay in one country for now."

         "Would you like me to stay with you for your calls?" he asked, wondering if he should also provide his supportive presence in such situations.

         Astoria quickly shook her head. "No, no, darling, that won't be necessary," she said in a rush, causing Draco to raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "I don't want you worrying so much about me, Draco." she insisted.

         "Well..."

         "I don't want you to feel like you need to be around me all the time as an obligation. I'll be perfectly fine on my own," she assured him, before laying back down and closing her eyes.

         "If you're sure," he said uncertainly, before giving her one more kiss on the cheek. "Just promise you'll use the charm on our wedding bands if you need me at a moment's notice, alright?"

         She nodded sleepily and gave him a tentative smile. She shook her ring finger exaggeratedly. "Yes, yes, I'll activate it in case of an emergency. Happy now?"

         "It'll do," Draco chuckled. "I'll be in my study, but I'll see you at dinner before I leave."

        

***

 

         Just like the last time, Harry and Ron had arrived on time, but Malfoy, ever the gracious host, had arrived just before they did in order to welcome them inside. As it was after dinner, Viridian was packed with patrons. However, Malfoy had had the foresight to reserve their usual booth in the corner ahead of time. Of course, he also had ownership rights to throw around just in case, but thankfully, in Harry's opinion, it never got to that.

         "So, Ferret," Ron teased, beer in hand, "for what particular reason did you finally succumb to the call of the pint?"

         Malfoy laughed. "Is that what you call it then?"

         "Well, we do," Harry replied with a chuckle, nursing his own mug in his hands. "At one point in a married man's life, the call becomes too much, and he must henceforth go into the nearest pub and receive its blessing."

         Ron and Harry clinked their glasses together in a show of brotherly sympathy.

         Malfoy shook his head, a smile on his lips. Then he surprised Harry by asking him, "Are you married as well, too, Potter? I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea and never thought to ask before. Given your privacy wards, of course."

         "No, not married," Harry answered in the same practiced tone he had used for everyone who had inquired. "Engaged, though."

         "I see," the blonde answered, seemingly deep in thought. Harry was surprised that there were no follow-up inquiries, and he wondered what he could be thinking about so thoroughly, when Ron interrupted Malfoy with his own questions.

         "So? How has your first month of future fatherhood been?"

         "Merlin!" Malfoy suddenly lamented, quite out of character that Ron and Harry both burst out laughing again at the sight of his expression. "Don't get me wrong, it's not as bad as Pansy had told me, but I've been up and about just ensuring that my wife gets whatever she wants."

         "Ah," Ron said with a mockingly wise tone of voice. "You have gone the way of the Doormat."

         Harry choked on his drink as Malfoy sputtered in indignation.

         "Of course not, Weasley!" the blonde exclaimed defensively. "I am merely guaranteeing that all of Astoria's needs and wants are met. After all, I would be highly disappointed in myself if I were unable to fulfill the most basic stipulations of our contract."

         Ron shrugged, as if understanding what Malfoy meant, but Harry was confused.

         "Contract stipulations? You mean the marriage contract?"

         "Oh," Ron turned to Harry with an apologetic look. "Sorry, mate, I forgot you're a bit unfamiliar with things like that."

         Malfoy looked at him as well, which made Harry slightly uncomfortable with all the attention. "Er, what else is there to understand about a marriage contract?" the brunet asked.

         "It's the Pureblood version of a marriage contract," Ron explained. "It's very different from the one between me and Mione. Our family doesn't follow those old traditions, see."

         Harry was now curious. He had never given much thought to the actual customs of the old families, since he didn't much spend time with any who considered themselves 'Pureblood', and the Weasleys could hardly count. All this time, he had assumed that Malfoy's marriage had been much the same as everyone else that he knew.

         "Hold on, Weasley," said Malfoy, "are you telling me that you and Granger didn't have the traditional contract?"

         "Of course not," Ron answered. "It was a quiet affair, you know, simple. Mione's family were there, too, so there wasn't much of the old tradition. It was sort of just a ceremony for us to finally be husband and wife."

         It seemed like it was Malfoy's turn to be surprised. "So none of the old stipulations? How does that even work?"

         "Okay, what stipulations do you keep mentioning?" Harry asked them both. "Muggle-raised wizard, here."

         "Well," Ron said, face scrunching as he tried to think of a way to explain to someone who hadn't been raised in the magical tradition. "Okay, just think of old Pureblood marriages as a sort of business deal."

         "What?!" To Harry, it was an incredulous concept.

         "Yeah, so think of two families brokering an alliance between their children. It all comes down to the contract, if the families do decide to wed. They have stipulations and everything on the contract, to ensure a good relationship between the two parties."

         "Why do you seem shocked, Potter?" Malfoy asked, genuinely concerned. Harry looked at him with disbelief.

         "Merlin, so- so when Ginny joked once that Purebloods were shopping around for partners and basing it all on their assets-"

         "Er, that probably wasn't a joke, Harry," Ron replied nonchalantly. "It's a bit crude to put it that way, but yeah, in essence, that's how traditional Purebloods marry."

         "So you-" Harry asked, looking at Malfoy. "That's the kind of contract you mean?"

         "Of course," Malfoy answered smoothly. "Whatever else could there be?"

         Ron shrugged. "You see, Malfoy, very few Muggles follow the concept of arranged marriages. Hermione tells me that most of them marry for love."

         "Ah..." Malfoy said meaningfully. "But that seems so volatile of a reason to bond together, don't you think? The wizard's way is much more stable and sensible."

         Harry gaped at the blond.

         "It's what he's grown up with, Harry, so give him a break," Ron said quickly.

         "It's true, though," Malfoy insisted. "It's not like we go into it with nary an idea of what it's about. I chose Astoria, and I offered to court her formally. In the end, she chose me, too. Our families both agreed, and our contract has been going strong. I see nothing wrong or odd about that."

         "But still," Harry said, trying to find words to explain what he thought. "Doesn't it feel... strange? I mean, to be married to someone that you hadn't been close to or- I dunno, it sounds weird that you have to spend the rest of your life together, and you still have to learn to like each other on the way?"

         "Isn't any relationship the same way?" Malfoy asked. "The difference is that in Pureblood traditions, both parties go into the marriage with a clear idea of what to expect. Everything is also clarified in the contract to ensure the happiness of both persons."

         "Okay," said Harry, "I'll keep an open mind about that, but I can't deny that I'm not curious. You have to understand," he said imploringly, "I really didn't mean to be rude or whatever, it's just very different from what I've grown up with."

         "Blimey," Ron said, "I'm impressed that you've gotten this far in the wizarding world without knowing about the old wedding traditions."

         "It's not like anyone rally talks about it, though," Harry pointed out, "I mean, Peterson and Roche are technically Pureblood aren’t they? But when they got married, none of this business deal stuff went down."

         "Oh I'm sure it did, but it's not publicized in the way that you probably imagine," said Ron offhandedly. "It's usually between the two families, and it doesn't matter to anyone else because it's usually assumed to be true. I mean, no one really bats an eyelash about it because it's the way things have been for centuries."

         "You learn something new everyday, eh?" Harry drained his glass.

         Malfoy shrugged. "Well I just learned that both of you follow the errant ways of the Muggle," he said jokingly.

         Ron laughed. "It's been working out fine, really. It's not so big a difference when you think about it, I mean in the end, it's two people who agree to be bonded for the rest of their lives, right? Stipulations or no, you both decide to be together anyway."

         "That makes sense," the blond said, amusement in his grey eyes. "I swear, the conversations I have with you lot...and we've only just got here." It was then that he seemed to notice their empty glasses and gestured towards the barman. "Another round, then?"

 

         ***

 

         Draco couldn't believe it, but he admitted to himself that Potter and Weasley were actually brilliant drinking companions. They had spent three hours exchanging stories, jokes and witticisms. Their topics cycled through whatever came up in their minds, which included politics, mysterious cases, girlfriend problems and Muggle inventions. Draco realized then that Potter had much to tell about the world he grew up in, seeing as both Malfoy and Weasley had had limited exposure. He had laughed when Potter mentioned Muggles going to the moon. What a laugh! Potter promised to show them footage (whatever that meant), but he and Weasley had shared a look that clearly meant they both doubted the non-magical means of achieving such a feat.

         It had been just past eleven, and they had already lost count of how many rounds they had had when their night took an unexpected turn. Draco could see that Weasley wasn't quite able to hold his liquor, though Potter still seemed alright. He himself was feeling slightly buzzed, but not yet on the brink of being pissed.

         It had been the Weasel's idea to go someplace else, and neither Draco nor Potter had any objection, given their current state. In no time at all, they had all Floo'd to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, which was supposedly Potter's home (they admitted that Apparating in their mental state would have been disastrous and irresponsible).

         As Potter led them into the hallway, Weasley remarked on how much better the place looked after Potter had "taken an axe to it."

         "He means that quite literally," Potter said suddenly to Draco. "This was horrible when I first got it, and- well, way too many bad memories, to be honest. So one day, I just took an old axe from the storeroom and just chopped through whatever I thought needed to go."

         Draco was speechless, though amused. His drunken head conjured an image of Potter breaking down walls like a crazed Muggle, which made him giggle. That alone told him that he had had a lot to drink already.

         Weasley, however, seemed worse for wear, collapsing in a heap on one of Potter's couches. His loud snoring told Draco that he was now quite alone with Potter, and he wasn't sure how to be comfortable in the home of a former adversary. It wasn't something they taught in the Little Wizard's Book of Etiquette, of course. To distract himself, Draco decided to focus on his surroundings.

         The house itself seemed awfully familiar, though he couldn't for the life of him think when he could have gotten a glimpse of Potter's home before.

         "What do you think?" Potter asked suddenly, settling in one of the armchairs. Draco took the one opposite him.

         "It's- well I'm not sure exactly what to think of it, though it feels strangely familiar," he admitted. He was surprised when Potter seemed to have expected his reaction.

         "It should be. This was once the ancestral home of the Black Family, so I'm guessing you were probably here as a child."

         "What-" Too many questions appeared in Draco's mind as he took another survey of the interior. Now that he thought about it, he could see a bit of the old house that he and his mother used to visit on occasion. Yes, it had been Great Aunt Walburga's, and he used to be scared of this place.

         "It seems, er, a lot less scary in here," Draco managed to say out loud before he could stop himself. The alcohol had really gotten to his head, he thought.

         Potter merely gave an enthusiastic nod in agreement. "I remember, it was all dark corners and creepy shadows all around. That's why I demolished two of the walls there-" he pointed, "so it opened up this space more. I also updated the kitchen to accommodate both magical and Muggle appliances so I could use it efficiently."

         "You cook?" Draco cocked up an eyebrow. "Don't you have elves to do that? I remember my Great Aunt had several here."

         "Yes, I do," Potter said, then shrugged. "But I don't like the idea of having a sort of slave or servant, so I have Kreacher take care only of what I can't manage on my own. It works out pretty fine."

         Draco went out again into the hall, this time looking around the place with the goal of identifying it from his childhood memories. That was when his beer-laden mind came to the question.

         "Why do you live here?" he suddenly asked. "It's an ancestral home, and had to be handed down."

         "Oh, er," Potter seemed to be a little less forthcoming now. "Well, Sirius Black was the last heir," he said slowly.

         Draco nodded. Aunt Bella had been younger, so the Black estates had officially been in the man's name. But he still failed to make the connection, so he glanced at the Auror in confusion.

         "Sirius died when-" Potter seemed to be trying to control his voice, which made Draco feel slightly guilty. He had only been curious about the house, not the family drama. He seemed to want to go on, though. "It was in fifth year, during the Ministry break in that I told you about before. We had broken into the Department of Mysteries, and- and Bellatrix killed him."

         Draco was still confused, so he waited.

         "Sirius Black was my godfather," Potter said, finally explaining everything. "He left me everything he owned, which included this house." Potter gestured around them with his arms. "I used to hate this place, you know. Even when I finally fixed it up, I still got my own flat, which is where I usually live. I missed this house though, so I came back here with- I came back here for a while."

        

***

 

         Harry wondered why he couldn't seem to stop spewing out personal information. For some reason, seeing Malfoy here, in his very home, was so surreal that he felt the natural order of things were slowly breaking down around him. He was confiding in Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. He wasn't that piss-drunk anymore, so he assumed he was going crazy.

         He had expected Malfoy to be offended that he hadn't been named the Black heir, considering that he had the right of blood and Harry had none. But the blond didn't seem to care. Harry realized that maybe he wasn't the only one to have a particular dislike for this house.

         "I'm guessing you hated it? When you used to come here?" he asked tentatively.

         Malfoy slowly nodded. "Yeah, I absolutely dreaded having to come here to visit Great Aunt Walburga. Horrifying woman. I must have been very young back then, but I was glad when we didn't have to visit anymore." He looked Harry in the eye. "To be honest, if I had inherited this place, I would have left it alone. You did a much better job bringing it back to life."

         Harry warmed at the compliment. He had told himself that the house had needed a little life in it, so he liked that Malfoy had used those words to describe how he saw it.

         "Thanks," he muttered. "Er, would you like anything? A drink?"

         Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "I think some water and a Sobering Potion might do."

         Harry laughed. He checked on Ron first to make sure he was still breathing, then went to the kitchen to fetch glasses of water and potions for both him and Malfoy.

         When the two of them settled back into their chairs, they fell into small talk, and Harry had to admit that it was getting much easier to talk to the blond. Sure, they had differing opinions about a lot of things they discussed, but again, they fell into the old habit of competing with each other somehow, and they both took comfort in that.

         They had been in the middle of a Quidditch discussion when the Floo suddenly flared to life, its color indicating an incoming visit. Malfoy was merely surprised, but Harry was confused. He hadn't been expecting anyone to drop by tonight. Unless-

         "Oh no," he muttered, looking back reluctantly at Malfoy. "Er, I'll just- I'll-"

         "Go ahead, Potter," the mad said noncommittally. "It might be something important for them to need to visit at midnight."

         Harry waved his hand to allow passage, and to his immense shock, out came Teddy.

         "Harryyyyyyyy!" the little boy cried out, running to him. Harry instinctively took him up in his arms. "Quick, Gran is right behind me! She says it's a 'mergency-"

         The Floo flared up again, and this time, Andromeda herself came through, holding James in her arms.

         "Oh, Harry!" she said, voice sounding frantic. "I'm so glad you're home, I was afraid you'd still be out, but-"

         "Is everything alright?" Harry asked. James was supposed to stay until tomorrow, so there must have been a reason that she was in such a panic.

         "Yes, yes, but I got a call from-" she stopped, looking suddenly behind him. With a jolt, Harry remembered that Malfoy was with them.

_FUCK._

         "Hello," Malfoy said politely to Andromeda and Teddy.

         "You're-" The old woman seemed at a loss for words, and Harry couldn't blame her. "You're Draco, aren't you?" she asked, voice shaking. She gave Harry a look which clearly meant what-the-hell-is-he-doing-here.

         "You must be my Aunt Andromeda," he said smoothly, inclining his head a bit to show respect, which Harry found surprising. "You look remarkably like my mother."

         Andromeda appeared lost, but quickly gathered herself and returned his polite tone. "Yes, I'm afraid though that I have been, ah, out of touch with your side of the family for many years."

         "I understand," Malfoy said sincerely. "Our family's history has been full of broken ties, and I had once thought it was impossible to bring the old Black family together."

         Andromeda looked at the blond man as if he were something she couldn't identify. "That is quite a feat, young man, given the bad blood between."

         Harry saw Malfoy glance at the little boy in his arms. Teddy was obviously curious.

         "And who might you be?" he asked in a lighter tone, full of curiosity.

         "I'm Teddy," the boy answered, his hair turning the same shade of silver as the man's before him. Malfoy took a step back in surprise, which made Harry's lips turn up at the corners.

         "He's my godson," Harry supplied quietly. "He's a metamorphmagus, just like his mother. She was your cousin," he said pointedly to Malfoy, who merely nodded."

         "That means we're kind of cousins, too, Teddy," Malfoy said, his throat tight. Harry once again thought about how surreal this all was.

         Then he remembered his real source of panic. James!

         He realized that Malfoy must not have seen James yet, due to the full privacy wards around him, but now Harry was stuck in a dilemma. How would he explain this awkward situation to Malfoy?! He didn't want anyone to know about James, but-

         But Malfoy seemed to be different now, Harry reflected. He observed the potions master talking with Teddy, who seemed to have been excited to find out that he had a cousin. While they talked animatedly, Harry had an internal debate with himself. Andromeda took the chance to talk to him while Malfoy was preoccupied with her grandson.

         "Harry," she whispered, bringing him out of his thoughts. "I was contacted by Ted's remaining family again earlier today." Harry knew that Ted's Muggle family had been in turmoil since they found out about Ted's disappearance, and even worse after the abrupt announcement of his death. They had no inkling of the War, nor did they understand the circumstances of Ted's demise, which meant that Andromeda had to deal with their family issues over the years. Over the last five years, she'd needed to coordinate with the Muggle Liaison Office in order to corroborate the stories that she was inclined to tell the Tonkses. It seemed that she still had a lot to do.

         "I'm sorry," she continued, voice still soft enough that Malfoy couldn't hear. She spoke quickly, which Harry took to mean that she was pressed for time. "They've threatened to take legal action against me unless I fix the falsified documentation that the Liaison Office gave. It's an urgent matter, you see, and I needed to go tonight, but I waited to see you first, for James."

         "I understand, Andy, don't worry," Harry said. "I'll take care of Teddy, too." He was still glancing furtively at Malfoy. He took his son from her arms and secured him against his hip as unobtrusively as possible. Andromeda was obviously perceptive.

         "He doesn't know, does he? He can't sense him?"

         Harry shook his head. "No, and I'm not sure if I want him to find out.. but I don't know how to deal with this situation right now."

         Unfortunately, Teddy had run back to Harry, which meant the blond had his full attention back at Harry.

         "Can we play?" Teddy was asking, eyes pleading at Harry. "Please, please pleassseee?"

         Harry shook his head though. He had way too much to deal with at the moment. "I'm sorry, Teddy, but it's past your bedtime already! You can play with- you can play tomorrow, alright? Go up to your room first and I'll follow you soon enough."

         The boy pouted, but obediently did as Harry said, after saying goodbye to his grandmother. When he disappeared into one of the doors in the hall, Andromeda bade goodbye to Harry, obviously in a rush to leave. She even gave a hesitant tod towards Draco, who respectfully bade her goodbye as well.

         When she had gone, the tension in the room became even more palpable, and Harry felt trapped. He knew Malfoy couldn't sense James, but he had no idea to explain Andromeda's emergency visit, or why he had to ask him to leave now so he could tend to his son in private.

         "You don't have to tell me if you really wish not to," Malfoy said suddenly, his voice slightly laced with ice. "But I hope you don't take me for someone stupidly thick."

         Harry was shocked. He hadn't expected such a reaction from Malfoy.

         "I respect your privacy, Potter," Malfoy went on, "I just have to admit that I don't particularly appreciate being kept in the dark. It's just who I am. So I'd like you to know that yes, I've had an idea that you've kept your godson a big secret from the rest of the wizarding world. Despite your wards, I was able to figure that out on my own."

         Harry had no idea what to say. Malfoy had been extremely perceptive despite the _Solum Sanctuarii,_ though his final conclusions had been off base. Still, it unnerved him. Once again, he felt vulnerable.

         "Malfoy, I-" he tried. "It's not-"

         It's not what? Harry resumed his internal debate furiously. A part of him wanted to keep his walls up, keep James away from everyone but those who mattered. But the other side of him was tired of the charade, tired of hiding behind wards, tired of keeping secrets.

         "It's not what you think," he finally said, taking a deep breath. "I mean, you were right about Teddy, but- but there's something else. I wasn't exactly prepared for this but..."

         "What is it, Potter?" Malfoy asked, with concern in his voice. "Is it really something that you can't tell me?" Harry knew that this was his Malfoy pride. He wasn't being nosy, or unnecessarily intrusive. He was obviously aware of something, and goodness knows how long ago he began to have such suspicions. But he hadn't tried to give a rise out of Harry, had he? He didn't try to force it out of him, or blackmail him, or sneak around. He was just, honest-to-goodness, pissed off that he was being kept out of something.

         _And he makes me want to tell him everything,_ Harry thought. _I don't know why, but he makes me trust him._

_From the sitting room, Ron gave a loud snore and shifted his position, oblivious to the awkward air around the house._

Finally, it seemed like Malfoy had run out of patience. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter, Potter, you don't have to tell me," he sighed, moving to gather his coat.

         To the surprise of both men, Harry stopped him. "Stay, please."

         Malfoy gave Harry a look of confusion. "But-"

         "It's-" Harry took another deep breath and let it out, before attempting to continue again. "It's not what you think."

         "I'm hardly ever mistaken, Potter," Malfoy said. "I've noticed all these odd clues around you a long time ago. I just never really thought-."

         "To use it against me?" Harry asked, slightly defensive. James was beginning to stir in his arms, probably bothered by all the noise their voices were making.

         "No, Potter," Malfoy spat out in spite of himself. "Obviously I was saving all the information up for the next Dark Lord to use against the Golden Boy of the Wizarding World."

         "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way," Harry said immediately, voice softening. James was almost awake now, stretching his tiny little arms and yawning. "Look, I don't know why, Malfoy, okay? But I think I trust you. After working with you for the last couple months, it's like, I don't know, I feel like telling you all this stuff, even things that I can't tell my best mates."

         Malfoy glanced at Ron's sleeping form, then turned back to Harry. "Maybe it's because we've got more in common than anyone thinks," he muttered.

         Harry thought about that. It was true. He and Malfoy had had almost the same circumstances thrown to them by a cruel twist of fate. They had both been instrumental pawns in the war, and they had the same losses and sacrifices. They had suffered different situations, but in essence they had lived almost the same life. Like two sides of the same coin.

         "I think I may actually believe that," Harry said quietly. James was now struggling in his arms, babbling nonsense and trying to move away from his dad.

         "This big secret of yours is a big deal, isn't it?" Malfoy said, more of a statement than a question. "I apologize, I sounded like a spoilt brat. I know it isn't any of my business at all."

         "It is a big deal," Harry nodded solemnly. "I would die first before giving it out, but-" He looked straight at Malfoy, emerald eyes burning into silver. "I want you to know."

         Malfoy's breath seemed to hitch.

         Harry closed his eyes, mentally unravelling the knots he had built around his James. The magic around both of them was intricate, and answered only to his magical signature. Slowly, he tore apart the layers of the _Solum Sanctuarii_ , and he observed the wonder and surprise in Malfoy's eyes as the little baby suddenly materialized out of thin air.

         "Potter!" the blond exclaimed breathlessly. "I-I-" He moved closer, full of awe, and reached out to touch one of the tiny little hands, which enthusiastically grabbed at him and playfully tugged. The child's ringing laughter echoed around the hallway.

         "Malfoy," Harry said, his voice suddenly laced with trepidation, but also pride. "I'd like you to meet my son, James."

        

***

 

         "Your son," Draco repeated in a whisper. He didn't bother to tell Potter that his first conclusions had been correct. He wasn't lying when he said that he was rarely mistaken. But all thought had left him when he was suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that _Potter's son_ had materialized in front of him.

         Potter had trusted him with his biggest secret.

         Potter trusted him.

         He felt like an immense weight had lifted from his chest.

         The baby insistently grabbed at his hand, pulling him closer, but he didn't mind.

         _Was this what it felt like to hold your own child?_ he wondered. _Is this what it would be like when I hold my son for the first time?_ His heart felt like it would burst at any moment, it was filled with such a lightness that he had never known before. He had held other children before, of course. But knowing that Potter had allowed him this peek into his private life, this great responsibility of keeping such a huge secret - it filled him with wonder.

         "You know," he said, his tone more playful now. "I think I'll stay. It seems we've got a lot to talk about."

         For the first time since the tense arrival of Andromeda, Potter gave out a brilliant smile. "Great. I'd be glad to regale you with everything you should be scared of in the next eight months. But-"

         "But what?"

         Harry chuckled. "You're going to have to help me put your cousin to bed first. Then we'll have that talk."

        

 

 


	14. Wakeup Call

**(Present, 2005)**

          The first thing Draco noticed that morning was that he was definitely not at the Manor.

          The second thing that immediately caught his attention was Potter's amused expression as he handed him a steaming cup of tea.

          Draco wordlessly took the china from the brunet while trying to remember as much as he could from the previous night. As he closed his eyes, he could feel the stirrings of a mounting migraine, no doubt the result of his inebriation. When he gave an involuntary flinch at the pain in his temple, he heard Potter chuckle behind him though he couldn't see him.

          "Drink. I've put a Hangover Cure in our tea." The amusement was clear in his voice, "Kreacher thought we'd all need it, especially the git over there."

          Draco opened one eye and saw Potter pointing dramatically to where Weasley was still snoring, tangled limbs trying (and failing) to squeeze themselves haphazardly into the constraints of the couch. He gave a snort and then looked back at his tea, before finally taking a sip. The taste startled him, however, and this time he trained both of his eyes towards the Auror sitting across from him.

          "Is something wrong with your tea?" Potter asked worriedly, lowering his own cup. He made to call Kreacher, perhaps to replace the offending drink, but the blonde waved off his concern.

          Draco shook his head minutely, but his brow remained furrowed. "No, there's nothing wrong," he said softly. "Actually... my tea is exactly how I take it. But how-"

          "Auror, remember?" Potter said, pointing at himself with a smug smile that went up to his sparkling eyes. "It's how you always had your tea at Hogwarts, so I threw caution to the winds and just tried to replicate it."

          "Er, thanks, Potter," Draco murmured behind his cup, relishing the feeling of having something familiar after a night full of shock and surprises.

          "Harry."

          "Sorry?"

          "Just Harry." Potter leaned back and closed his own eyes. "If I'm not mistaken, we'd agreed to at least call each other by our first names now."

          "Oh." It was then that Draco remembered another chunk of their surreal conversation last night. "Right."

          Potter - Harry, that is - was now looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Draco felt as if he were under scrutiny, and he resisted the strong urge to preen himself. Instead, he went on to drink his tea, feeling slightly more relaxed as he felt the potion unravel the building pressure behind in his head. It took a couple more minutes, but when he felt the last vestiges of pain disappear, he gave out a sigh of relief and allowed his body to lean back into his armchair.

          "What time is it?" he asked.

          Potter - Harry, dammit! - cast a Tempus. "Quarter past seven."

          Thank Merlin it was a Saturday. Draco usually slept in after late Friday nights, so Astoria wouldn't make a big deal out of his coming home the next morning. Given his state last night, it was much better that they had all ended up at Potter's - Harry's!!! - place.

          His sigh of relief was apparently audible.

          "Not in trouble, then?" Pot - HARRY - asked.

          Draco shook his head. "I usually sleep in on Saturday mornings, so it's nothing unusual. I'm sure my wife is still asleep as well. I choose not to work on weekends either, so it's not like I have to force myself to get up."

          "Lucky bastard," the brunet huffed, but without the tone of animosity that Draco had always expected. "I officially have my weekends free, of course, but you know how it's always been with our cases. Without my special circumstances, I'd have had to be at the Ministry about an hour ago."

          Draco nodded, knowing full well that being an Auror was really a full-time job, and he was glad that he was a consultant. At least he had more control of his work hours.

          "It's not that bad. Kingsley was pretty lenient, I mean, not everyone gets to work from home. I get to spend all day with James, so it's not like I'm wasting away my time at work."

          As if on cue, Draco's brain was jolted at the mention of the child. Automatically, he looked around for the boy, and the Auror laughed.

          "He's still asleep," he said. "But he'll be joining us soon. Though Teddy usually wakes up first, around eight."

          At that moment, Weasley chose to emit a particularly loud snort, which seemed to bring back Draco's perspective despite the echoes of the hangover. His thoughts lingered on Pott - Harr - _damn it!_

          His host seemed to notice something pained from his expression. "You alright?" he asked mildly. "Was the potion not enough?"

          Draco actually barked out a laugh. "Sorry, it's just that even in my head, I have a hard time calling you by your first name."

          Potter ( _yes, that was more like it,_ he thought) looked a bit crestfallen, but then a corner of his mouth went up a few notches. "Is it really that difficult?"

          "Hard habit to break, I guess," Draco said with a signature smirk. "I did spend most, if not all of my formative years using your last name as the most insulting expletive, and you've got to admit, saying 'Harry' just doesn't give as much satisfaction as spitting out 'Potter' with the proper amount of spite." He made sure to enunciate his P's as forcefully as he could, just like he always used to.

          Potter laughed heartily at this. "No, I don't suppose it does," he choked out. "It seems I can adjust better than you. Though I think the only reason I can easily switch between your first and last names is because they're both equally weird to me. So it makes no difference, really."

          Draco didn't miss the teasing tone, which he oddly appreciated. "At least it's not as dreadfully common and plebeian as yours," he said with an upturned lip. "But I'm sure my sophisticated tongue will eventually get used to pronouncing your first name. But for now, I'll stick with Potter."

          Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and then Potter gave a little shrug as if conceding to defeat, though there was a shadow of a smile that remained in his expression. "Call me whatever you like, then. Though I really would prefer if you'd start practicing with my first name." He obviously thought something was funny, though Draco couldn't fathom what.

          "What's so amusing?" he finally asked, curious.

          Potter's wistful smile was somewhat of a shock. "It's going to sound weird, to be honest, but... you've always been one of the constants in my life. Regardless of all the shit we've both been through, and all the hero worship on my end, and the stupid prejudice from your side, I find it comforting that we can always depend on our old rivalry to fall back on. It's like, we can't help but be at each other's throats all the time, but it feels almost right."

          Truth be told, Draco did feel the same. "It does feel right, doesn't it?" he agreed. "It's a bit of a relief for me to hear that I'm not alone in that regard."

          Potter's eyebrow quirked up at this, but he didn't say anything in response. Instead, he distracted himself by checking the time again and promptly standing up. At Draco's inquiring look, he gave a lopsided, albeit brilliant smile, which definitely caught him off guard.

          "Your cousin's going to wake soon," Potter said brightly. "He'll definitely keep you here, so I hope you're open to some breakfast. Since Ron's pretty much useless...how good are _you_ at playing house?"

 

***

 

          Harry felt like he was stuck in a surreal dream, though he couldn't decide yet if it was a good one, or a nightmare. So far though, he couldn't believe that he had just spent most of the midnight hours opening up to his childhood nemesis. And now he was nonchalantly bumping elbows with Malfoy in the kitchen while they made breakfast.

          He could call him Draco when the git decided to call him Harry. It was only fair.

          Malfoy had actually admitted to having absolutely no idea about running a home, since his own household was pretty much taken care of by the house elves. For an amateur homemaker though, he did pretty well just following Harry's instructions. They even managed more small talk while Malfoy was making the eggs and Harry was setting the table. The blonde expressed sheer delight at the Muggle toaster, explaining to Harry that it was a difficult Charm for most wizards to perfect, which meant that the typical magical person just learned to live with slightly burnt toast if they didn't have a house elf's magic.

          Harry easily took care of the pancakes and bacon, while Malfoy chatted with an overexcited Teddy. James had yet to wake, but Harry didn't mind being able to entertain Malfoy and Teddy just a little longer without all the baby drama. Merlin knows last night had been enough.

          As he flipped out another perfectly fluffy pancake and poured new batter, he kept thinking about everything that had happened after Andromeda had gone. It was as if a dam had been broken, or a secret door revealed, and he and Malfoy had suddenly exchanged much of what they hadn't been able to tell others. It wasn't much, of course, given their naturally guarded personalities and obvious habit of being taciturn, but it was a start.

          Malfoy had related his personal journey from his probation all the way through to his Mastery exams in France, which left Harry awed at the blonde. He had accomplished so much in the face of prejudice, and he was now a celebrity in his own right. Harry, on the other hand, told him about his special acceptance into the Corps, and his demands for _Solum Santuarii._ He went as far as to talk about the beginning of his engagement to Ginny, but he felt like it was too private to share any more about that, so he focused on the one thing that Malfoy most wanted to hear about: James.

          It had been quite a sight, Malfoy with eyes so bright and wide and full of curiosity and wonder, and all because of a baby. He had told Harry how he had been looking forward to becoming a father, and how he and Astoria had celebrated the fact as soon as they found out. He even shared funny stories of Narcissa's absolute joy, which Harry admittedly thought was unimaginable. They talked at length about being only children, and Malfoy lamented that he had nothing close to Ron's large family ("he probably had every child-rearing manual drilled into him by his mother!") and Harry was quick to point out that neither he nor Ron had had a clue, and only learned from experience. He then gleefully listed every good and bad experience he had had so far.

          Malfoy didn't seem to notice anything strange about Harry having James almost all of the time, and if he did, he never pointed it out, to Harry's immense relief. By the time James had fallen asleep once more, exhausted from being manhandled by an overeager Slytherin, Harry had tucked him into bed and both he and Malfoy had pretty much passed out.

          "I think that one's done," Malfoy's voice (which sounded alarmingly close), startled Harry enough to realize that yes, he had completely zoned out while cooking. He transferred the rescued pancake from the pan and added one last batch. "Teddy, why don't you go bounce on your Uncle Ron and see if he wakes up." The boy let out an exuberant giggle and ran out of the kitchen. Draco moved closer and peeked over his shoulder, as if taking down mental notes on making the perfect breakfast.

          "You're good at this, Potter."

          Harry shrugged one shoulder, turning away from the pan and beginning to make coffee. "I got enough practice, seeing as I cooked every meal for my Muggle family."

          Malfoy seemed surprised at that. "Oh, I thought you hadn't been in touch with them after the war."

          "I haven't," Harry said, his attention focused more on the coffee than the conversation at hand. He still liked it done the Muggle way. "I've only ever written to my cousin, but that's pretty much it. I meant before Hogwarts."

          "Before-" Malfoy's eyes widened in disbelief. "Potter, you realize, 'before Hogwarts' means 'before eleven."

          Malfoy's sharp tone took back Harry's attention a few seconds too late. He realized what he'd unthinkingly blurted out, and he mentally punched himself. He looked at Malfoy, gave a little half-shrug (he was doing a lot of shrugging today) as if he could discard the unwanted topic like an old jumper, and busied himself with cleaning up, sending pots and pans to the sink with his wand.

          Of course, Malfoy couldn't be fooled, and Harry braced himself for the onslaught of jeers and taunts.

         

***

 

          Potter hadn't responded, which infuriated Draco. Was he being serious?

          "Are you telling me," he said in a low voice, filled with trepidation, "you cooked meals for your family, before you were eleven?" It didn't fit with what Draco knew of Potter. He, along with the rest of the wizarding world, was aware that he had been raised by Muggles, and that they were not particularly close. But to hear something like that...

          He looked into Potter's eyes as if to find some sort of confirmation, and found it in the way that Potter wouldn't meet his gaze.

          "You were exposed to the hazards of fire and sharp objects and manual labor when you were only a child?!"

          He knew that he was beginning to sound enraged, and he was. But Potter still remained calm, though slightly more reserved, maybe even uncertain.

          "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't thinking when-"

          "Why the bloody hell are you apologizing to _me_? Is that what Muggles do to young children? Treat them like house elves?"

          "Shut it," Potter said suddenly, expression still blank but voice matching the sharpness in Draco's. "It wasn't like that at all. I don't even know why I said that, so just forget it."

          "Are you telling me that you've never mentioned this appalling - Not even to Granger? Weasley?!"

          The brunet finally looked straight into his eyes. "No."

          The silence that came between them brought no calm.

          "Like I said," Potter continued through gritted teeth. "I wasn't thinking when I said it out loud."

          "That's pretty careless of you to let your guard down in front of me then, big time Auror that you are," Draco said haughtily, annoyed at the fact that Potter had dropped this bomb on him and then treating it as if it were nothing of importance. Then he realized what it meant, that he hadn't even told his best mates. Draco suddenly felt ashamed.

          "I've never had to tell anyone before. You caught me off guard just by asking." Potter was now biting his lip, which Draco found mildly distracting.

          "Why haven't you told anyone?"

          "Because it wasn't important."

          "So you really _did_ serve your _own_ family when you were ten?!"

          Draco caught a guilty look flash on Potter's face. "Actually...I learned well enough when I was seven. Or maybe eight? I'm not exactly sure though, to be honest."

          It was impossible for Draco to tell which part hurt to hear the most: the truth, or the matter-of-fact manner that Potter had said it. He ground his teeth in frustration. His first ten years were filled with toys and parties and the best of whatever it was he wanted on a whim. For Merlin's sake, he was a fully grown man and still couldn't find his way around the kitchen. And here he suddenly had an image of a little Potter, being treated like a servant by his own flesh and blood. Sure, he had learned over the years that Potter wasn't the spoiled brat that he had once made himself believe. But this was painful to hear, even for him. And he couldn't think of anyone who could have hated Potter more than he did.

          He had no idea why this was affecting him so much, but he felt as if the rug was roughly pulled from under his feet, and he had found out that he was fifty feet in the air. He had no idea what to even think. He could handle the Potter that he thought he used to know. He didn't know exactly how to handle this new person standing in front of him, calmly fixing up the table with three steaming cups of coffee.

          As if on cue, the awkward air between them was interrupted by the sudden reappearance of little Teddy, who had a grumbling but smiling Weasley following close behind. Neither of the two noticed anything out of the ordinary, settling themselves in their respective seats around the table.

          Stiff as a Petrificus, Draco watched as Potter sent him one last warning gaze, and before reverting almost immediately into the happy host he had been just a few minutes earlier. Promising himself that he would hash it out with the stubborn brunette another time, he went to the empty place set for him next to Teddy and went through the motions of breakfast.

 

***

 

          "Are you serious?!" Hermione exclaimed, laughing at the expense of her husband. She, Ron and Malfoy had decided to have breakfast together, during which Malfoy and Harry had silently agreed to act as if that morning's conversation had never occurred. Harry could hand it to the blonde, though - he could be counted on to play his part rather well. Maybe all Slytherins were raised to have so many masks ready to be put into place as needed. Malfoy was certainly being the epitome of the ideal houseguest, and was warming up to Ron and even Hermione. Neither Harry nor Malfoy mentioned anything from the previous night, even though they hadn't discussed that prior. Anyway, it didn't seem an issue to either Ron or Hermione that Harry had been holding James in his arms right in front of Malfoy while welcoming Hermione through the Floo.

          Making breakfast with the potions prat had been awkward enough, but proper manners pretty much dictated that Malfoy could hardly refuse Hermione's invitation to dine together as ' _compensation for having more common sense than my husband and my best friend have between the two of them_." So now they were finishing up their pancakes, bacon, egg and toast, with Malfoy regaling Hermione with stories of Ron's antics on their event-filled night out.

          "I didn't _know_ it was a bloke, alright?" Ron insisted, though sounding sheepish. Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing. He still looked a little roughed up from last night, but the coffee (and potion) seemed to have countered his hangover.

          "He was very pretty, though, to be fair," Harry added, pretending to be on his best mate's defense, but his joking tone pretty much made it clear that the redhead was going to be the butt of that day's jokes.

          Malfoy mockingly rolled his eyes. "If that classified as pretty to both of you, then Merlin help us, you two are obviously lacking in taste".

          Hermione gave out a snigger, nudging her husband in the ribs with her elbow. "Well in that case, I reckon I can forgive you," she said teasingly, lips quirked up. "Anything else interesting happen?"

          For a fleeting second, Harry met Malfoy's eyes. So much had gone on between the two of them and Harry was afraid that he had put faith in the wrong person.

          "Apart from your darling husband making a fool of himself, Granger, the night was pretty much uneventful."

          "You can hardly call me Granger anymore, Draco," Hermione said. "And anyway, it's Weasley now."

          "Old habits die hard," Malfoy winked at her. "I was just telling Potter this morning that it will be a long while before I make the switch to 'Harry', so perhaps we can add 'Hermione' to that list. Anyway, calling you 'Weasley' just blurs you with all the other Weasleys I already have to keep tabs on in my head. That's way too many, without you having to add to the lot."

          Harry was worried that Hermione might have been offended, but she clearly thought that Malfoy's sense of humor was worth laughing over. She gently rested her arms across her very pregnant belly. Ron placed a palm on her stomach as well, and Harry caught what seemed to be longing on Malfoy's face as he watched the couple.

          "So are you planning on a large family, then?" he blurted out before being able to stop himself. The look was so tender on Malfoy's face that it was obvious to him.

          Malfoy looked him in the eye, holding his gaze while he appeared to be thinking of his answer. "Yes," he finally responded. "It goes against the Malfoy family tradition, but I would love to have a large family. Though not as expansively as the Weasleys, of course," he added with a friendly smirk. "The contract between myself and my wife include children, but the decision also rests largely on Astoria. Most Purebood families have only one, sometimes two heirs at the most, but..." he trailed off, a darker expression seemed to flicker onto his face, but the shadow disappeared at once. "...Having Vince and Greg with me at Hogwarts really made me wish I'd had siblings."

          Harry could relate to that. He, of course, had grown up with Dudley as a sibling of sorts, but they had hardly been close, and they only kept in touch over the years because Harry wanted his own children to have actual blood family to visit once in a while, something that he had yearned for as a kid. When he learned that Dudley and his wife were expecting, he decided that he wanted their children to be able to grow up as proper cousins.

          He looked over at his godson, who was sprawled out in front of the fire, playing with the enchanted Lego bricks that Hermione had given him last Christmas. Harry liked spoiling Teddy, because it was important to him to provide everything that he lacked when he was at that age. With a pang, he realized that he had been that very age when the Dursleys had placed most, if not all the chores under his responsibility. He had never thought about it, but perhaps this was what it was like for Malfoy when he pictured Harry's own childhood? His eyes suddenly flared at the thought of little Teddy Lupin slaving in front of the stove, scrubbing surfaces around the house and sleeping in a cupboard-

          "Harry?" Ron's voice snapped him out of his darkening thoughts. When Harry looked at him, Ron gestured towards the other end of the sitting room, where James seemed to have woken up from a nap.

          "Oh, sorry, I'll handle it," he said, excusing himself and tending to his son. James wasn't a fussy baby, but he had probably been woken by the loud conversations they were having. It wasn't often that Grimmauld Place had guests, of course. It was usually only father and son.

          From the kitchen, he could hear the sound of clinking, so he reckoned either Ron or Hermione had begun cleaning up. Making a mental note to thank them for helping out, Harry cradled his son carefully, moving around the sitting room and hovering over Teddy's new sculpture. He could feel James settling down and falling back into a blissful sleep, but he waited a few more minutes before he gently lowered the baby back into the bassinet.

 

***

 

          It was such a private and tender moment that Draco felt he was intruding. Watching Potter's attention flicker between his son and godson made him feel something in the pit of his stomach. Actually seeing Potter make googly eyes at his son while he arranged the little pillows around him in the bassinet made something in his heart ache.

          "You'll have bad days, too," Potter's voice suddenly called his attention. "When they just won't shut up and you'll probably slip the occasional swearword in between while you contemplate why you had ever decided that you wanted kids. Then you realize that it's all worth it anyway."

          Draco gave a little laugh. "You are the worst parenting advisor."

          "I try."

          Draco watched warily as Potter walked over to him, arms crossed over his chest. Weasley and Granger were busy in the kitchen, so he figured they had a few minutes to themselves.

          "I'm sorry," Potter suddenly blurted out. His bottle green eyes were on the floor, and his hands absentmindedly fidgeted. "For earlier, I mean. I didn't mean to get angry or anything."

          "You just don't talk about it," Draco finished for him. He was already starting to see just how much Potter might be hiding. "I reacted badly as well."

          Draco was surprised when Potter came closer and dropped his voice, eyes towards the kitchen. "Look," the brunet whispered, "I'm not sure what to do here, alright? I've already told you much more that I would have wanted, and in this case, you've found out something that not even Ron or Hermione know of."

          Draco's eyes widened at the admission. "I - I'm sorry, I shouldn't have -"

          "You seem to be more observant," Potter continued. "Or at least you've been sharper than most. You notice things that even I take for granted. You should look into a career in interrogation. You've only been over one night, and already you've gotten me to open up to you embarrassingly about things I don't even tell my best mates."

          There was undertone to Potter's joke, and Draco picked up on it: _Can you be trusted?_

          He thought about what Potter had said last night, how he somehow just wanted to tell Draco his secrets. He thought about the ease with which he had related his personal history to Potter. He realized he was within Potter's _Solum Sanctuarii_ , and he knew that only a handful of people were allowed. He realized that he hadn't been able to open up to anyone else aside from Blaise and Pansy, and that doing so with Potter had been so easy.

          They were so different, and yet so alike in many ways. They understood each other in a way that no one else could.

          Draco merely nodded, even though Potter didn't ask a question. As he had suspected, the Auror seemed to understand his intentions immediately. Something between the two of them changed that night, and he knew in his heart that he welcomed this new dynamic between them, whatever it was. And he knew without a doubt that Potter felt the same way.

 

***

 

          Harry could swear that there was something tangible in the air between him and Malfoy, and he knew that he could trust the man. That every private thing they had exchanged over the last twelve hours would be kept in the strictest confidence.

          Ron and Hermione emerged from the kitchen at that very moment, laughing about something. Harry suddenly felt quite happy and whole, as if he was seeing the entire picture of the family he had always wanted. Here he was, spending a sunny Saturday with his two best friends, his son and his godson. Then there was Malfoy, who, for some reason, fit into the grand scheme of things according to Harry's intuition.

          As the four of them settled into the sitting room, Harry and Ron fell into Quidditch talk while Malfoy and Hermione joined Teddy on the floor (well, Hermione settled into the armchair closest to them). It was all so typical, that it made Harry want to laugh out loud at the absurdity that his life was finally looking to be as regular as it could be.

          It was about an hour later, when Hermione was with Teddy in his bedroom, Harry was in the middle of a heated discussion with Ron and Malfoy about the Pince case. All three men were startled from their serious conversation when the Floo suddenly roared to life, spitting out emerald embers in front of the hearth.

          Harry was instantly wary. He automatically steeled himself, his stomach stuck in a flurry of emotions that cycled between relief, apprehension, excitement, anger, longing and nervousness. Apart from Ron, Hermione, Arthur, Molly and Andromeda., there was only one other person keyed directly into the wards of Grimmauld Place that they could Floo in and out with ease.

          Sure enough, in a haze of green smoke, from out of the fire came Ginny, eyes bright and blazing and looking expectantly at Harry.

 

         

         

         

 

 

 

 


	15. Running Home

**(Present, 2005)**

          "Ginny!"

          Ron was the first to come back to his senses after the surprise arrival of his sister, jumping up to welcome her. "Bloody hell! What the fuck are you doing here?!" She eagerly walked into his embrace, eyes still trained on Harry, who seemed to get over his shock as well.

          "Hey, Gin," he said, giving her a small smile and holding out his arms to her automatically. "We weren't expecting you to get here until later tonight..." He made a motion with his arms as if too indicate that none of them were prepared for her sudden arrival.

          Ginny gave out a little giggle and flipped her hair. "I wanted to surprise all of you, so I requested for an earlier Portkey. Maybe I should've just told you, but well... I kinda missed you and wanted to do something special."

          She folded herself into Harry's waiting arms and basked in the warmth. It seemed funny to Harry that they could still be that kind of couple when they technically hadn't even fixed the problems they had over the six week separation. Sometimes he saw it as a good thing - he would hate if he and Ginny ever stopped talking to each other every single time they fought. He liked that they were quite mature about such disagreements, never allowing anything to come between them. Not once did they ever sleep in separate rooms even after major fights. But then again, it irked him sometimes that their periods of truce over the years had never actually helped them to fix some problems.

          "Welcome back," Harry murmured in her ear softly. They both knew, of course, that they would need to have that much-avoided Talk, with a capital T, but in the meantime, neither could deny the relief they felt after such a long separation.

          "What is _he_ doing here?" Ginny asked, her voice dropping to a whisper so that neither Ron nor Malfoy could hear.

          "We all went out last night, and he and Ron stayed over. Malfoy's been working with us on the case, if you recall what I've told you over the Floo." He didn't know why he was suddenly defensive of the blonde, but he knew that his fiancée wasn't exactly a fan of his former adversary. "And since your brother was as functional as a flobberworm, he's been kind enough to help out with Teddy and James this morning, actually."

          Ginny's eyes widened, probably from the shock of Harry allowing Malfoy access to their son. However, she schooled her expression and took a deep breath to calm herself. "Malfoy," she nodded towards him, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

          Malfoy, ever the gracious socialite, gave her a brilliant smile in return. "Hello, Ginevra. It's good to see you again."

          There was a bit of an awkward moment then. Harry was aware that Malfoy and Ginny had always been right on the edge of polite for the most part, but their relationship was even less than an acquaintance and more of a reluctant tolerance for each other's presence. Thankfully, a shriek from the hallway told Harry that Hermione had just come out from Teddy's bedroom and seen her sister-in-law. Ginny immediate ran towards her, with Hermione trying her best to waddle into the sitting room.

          While the women exchanged their version of pleasantries (which was mostly high-pitched sounds and some squealing and jumping in between, as far as Harry could tell), the three men stood awkwardly near the Floo.

          "Er," Malfoy began, looking as if he were trying to find the right words. "Well, I think it's about time I get myself home as well."

          Harry could tell that he, Ron and Malfoy would have wanted to extend their earlier discussion, but having Ginny back after her six weeks away warranted some familial privacy. Even Ron could pick up on such subtleties. They politely led Malfoy to the Floo, Harry handing over the jar of powder he kept nearby.

          As Malfoy prepared to leave, he gave the two Aurors a friendly smirk. "Thank you for having me over, last night and this morning," he said. He gave a meaningful glance towards Harry, and the latter knew that he was also silently thanking him for everything else they couldn't mention in front of Ron. "James is a wonderful child, and so is Teddy. I'm looking forward to seeing them again, if you don't mind."

          "Of course," Harry replied, smiling. "Teddy's your cousin, so that's not a problem at all. As for James, I'm sure he'd love having another reckless man to look up to as a role model."

          Ron laughed. "Come out with us more often," he suggested. "Wouldn't want to ignore the Call of the Pint now, would we?"

          It was Malfoy's turn to laugh. "Of course not. And you two children need some adult supervision, what with all the trouble you manage to stir up everywhere you go. Bloody Gryffindors..." He threw in the powder to the flames and stepped into the hearth once it glowed emerald. His tone turned serious. "I'll owl you both with the rest of the new translations. Something tells me we're close to cracking the case."

          "Thanks, Malfoy," Harry said sincerely. Ron nodded, and in a second, Malfoy had gone. The two of them brushed off soot from their robes and went back to the hallway where Hermione and Ginny were still busy exchanging stories.

          "Oi," Ron called out to his sister. "I hope all the Chasing in China hasn't made you blind to the fact that my wife might want to sit down, yeah?"

          Ginny laughed and carefully guided Hermione towards the nearest couch. When they settled, she sauntered over to Harry and hugged him. Harry welcomed the affection - Merlin knew how much he missed actually having her around again. What was the whole point of being engaged if he couldn't bask in the affection of his intended?

          "Would you like to have lunch here?" Harry asked them all. Ron and Hermione nodded enthusiastically, wanting to spend as much time with Ginny again. Harry called to Kreacher, instructing him on what to prepare for their meal. He didn't want to waste time cooking everything himself when he could spend it catching up with Ginny and his best mates. In a wink, they all settled themselves around the fire, now talking more intimately now that Malfoy had gone.

 

***

 

          "There you are, dear!" Narcissa exclaimed with relief as Draco stepped out of the fireplace. He walked over to where she was sitting and bent down to give her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. She gave him such a lovely smile that he couldn't help but return it.

          "Good afternoon, Mother," he said brightly. When Narcissa gave him a look, he asked, "What?"

          "Nothing, Draco," she replied smoothly, "it was simply written on your very face that you had a good time while you were away."

          When Draco followed her train of thought, he blanched. "Merlin! Nothing like that, Mother! I would never do that to Astoria!"

          "My apologies, son," Narcissa said, tipping her head gracefully. "But with such an expression on your face as you Flooed in, anyone would have come to the wrong conclusion as well."

          "I don't know what expression you mean, Mother."

          "The one you're wearing now, even as we speak. And it appears you don't even realize."

          Draco waited wordlessly.

          "You are radiating pure joy, dear," his mother finally stated airily. "Trust me to know that I have not witnessed such an expression on your handsome face in quite a while, and it gave me quite a shock."

          "Ah." Draco was unsure on how to respond to his mother's observation. Inwardly, he cursed himself for letting his Malfoy Mask fail. And then cursed himself again for letting his mother, of all people, be the one to call him out. And accuse him of adultery in the same breath. Clearly, his skills in taking in details from brief observations were inherited.

          Narcissa was still eyeing him dubiously.

          "Oh, relax," he chided her. "I went out with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley last night, and we all ended up at Potter's. Neither staying over nor sharing breakfast were part of the plan, but we all got carried away with the alcohol."

          "And how would that make you exponentially happier than you usually are?" Narcissa queried with curiosity. "You go out on such endeavors with Blaise and Pansy, though without the same results. Or perhaps there was something different about Misters Potter and Weasley?"           It was then that Draco realized that Potter's wards would not allow him to share what was the most probable reason for his inexplicable happiness. Not that he would have betrayed the trust, of course. He was a man of his word, and he felt like it was something he would have to prove to his new friends, if that was what they were now. Surely being invited into the _Solum Sanctuarii_ meant that he was above acquaintance? He knew about James, for Merlin's sake.

          When his mother reacted once again, he knew that it was indeed baby James that had him unbelievable happy, and that his face was reflecting it accurately. And knowing so made him smile at the thought, which obviously startled Narcissa even more.

          "It was just a very good night, Mother," he said, suddenly wanting to reassure her while also staying true to his word to Potter. "Highly unexpected, and absolutely unbelievable as it was improbable, but I believe Potter and I have agreed to disregard our past discord and develop our professional and personal relations."

          Upon hearing Draco's words, Narcissa seemed to contemplate many things in her head that Draco felt that he could hear her the machinery working behind her blue eyes.

          "I'm not cheating on Astoria," he said blandly, guessing (correctly) that she was still thinking it. "Why are you so sure that I would do such a dishonor to our family, Mother?"

          It was Narcissa's turn to be under the spotlight, and Draco could see that she loathed his decision to turn the tables on her. "I was merely working from conjecture, dear," she said softly.

          "And what's that supposed to mean!" Draco could not deny the betrayal he now felt upon learning that his own mother expected him to stray.

          "I just mean, well," Narcissa took a deep breath before looking straight into his silver eyes. "What I mean to say, is that as your mother, I have been noting several signs, possible indications..."

          "Please get to the point."

          "Are you and Astoria doing well?"

          The question had been pulled from nowhere, which surprised Draco. "Of course we are doing well, you would know that seeing as you live beneath the same roof as us."

          "But that's exactly it," Narcissa said quietly, looking around before speaking again. "I can read people quite easily, dear. And so far, I've been gaining the impression that all might not be well with you and Astoria, and it was a cause for my immense concern."

          Signs? Draco was confused. As far as he knew, he and his wife had had a great relationship since they had begun courting. They were about to have their first child. Nothing was amiss, and everything was playing out to his ultimate designs. Well, except for the unlikely friendship with Potter. But that was neither here nor there.

          "Really, I assure you," he said insistently. "I am fine. Astoria is fine."

          "Are you sure?'

          Hearing this from his mother was too much. He was taken back to the times when his mother would utter the exact same words right after Draco had shared some sort of dilemma or made a rash decision. It was her tone that did it. The one that told him she was sure that he was wrong.

          It was the tone that sowed doubt into his very being.

          It was the tone that made him believe that he could do no right.

          And it was the tone that had always, always, pushed him far beyond his limits to prove to himself that she was mistaken.

          So it was, that after the five minutes that had passed following his arrival at the Manor, Draco found himself less joyful, all thoughts of Potter and" James gone, with only the single intention of proving to his mother that there was nothing wrong with him and Astoria. With a determined look on his face, he excused himself and headed straight for his wife.

          The change in his expression was not lost on Narcissa. The look of absolute joy on her only son’s face had shocked her, because she had never seen him so happy before. And now, she felt her heart break a little, seeing the happiness fade into nonexistence as he walked away.

 

***

 

          "Well?"

          Ron and Hermione had finally gone late into the afternoon, and Harry now found himself very much alone with Ginny, whose blazing eyes matched the sharpness of her tone.

          "Well, what?"

          "Harry, you've known that I was coming home tonight."

          "Yes, of course we all knew. Obviously, you didn't stick to our expectations, seeing as you arrived about eight hours in advance."

          Ginny sighed, and settled onto the couch. Harry remained standing, now with his arms crossed. He had no idea where this conversation was headed, and he felt there were other, more pressing matters, that they had to resolve.

          "I'm sorry," she said, still with a sigh. "I guess I'm just... well I'm a bit embarrassed about it but I guess I was taken aback by all of you being here, just having fun..."

          "It was the weekend, Gin," Harry said, trying to sound patient. "Ron and I go out all the time, so I fail to see how this was different."

          Ginny stared at him, and he knew the unspoken topic.

          "Malfoy was here on our invitation. Though it was made while under the influence, we all had a pretty good time."

          "And Hermione?" Ginny's voice was very quiet.

          "She had come to take Ron home, but when she saw that he was alright, she invited herself over as well."

          There was a long silence, and Harry felt no inclination to break it. Before long, Ginny finally turned her body so that her face was hidden from him.

          "I was jealous," she whispered. "I had packed up and stepped into the Floo, thinking that I'd catch you and James unawares with my surprise, and what happens instead? I step out and see the three of you having a jolly good time with Malfoy of all people."

          "What's so bad about that!" Harry exclaimed. "We were having a perfectly fine Saturday morning."

          "Exactly!" Ginny said, and the crack in her voice suddenly made it clear to Harry that she was crying. He was immediately by her side, hands on her shoulders."

          "What's this all about, Gin? Why are you so upset?"

          She turned back to face him, eyes streaming with tears. "I know you were having a perfect morning, alright? It just hurt to see that I wasn't part of it. Like I didn't even have to be here for all of you to just have this amazing picture of a happy family of something. Just... it hurt, alright?"

          What was Harry supposed to say? They were having a fine time without her, it was a fact. But it was also only because they had gotten used to her being away anyway.

          "I'd planned a whole different welcome for when you came back," Harry decided to say. "Hermione had this idea, and Ron and I were so eager to go with her plan, and -"

          "You know what hurt even more, Harry?" she sniffed, interrupting him. "That Malfoy was here, obviously not on purpose, and yet he still fit in more than I did. Fucking Malfoy, Harry! And why is he suddenly part of our wards! What made you suddenly decide that he should be aware of James! James is ours, Harry, he's our baby!"

          "Malfoy has changed," was all that Harry could say, since he felt something in his throat catch after hearing Ginny's words. He swallowed and cleared his throat, before finally having a go at all the flaws he saw in her sudden outburst. "Malfoy's changed, and he went against all our expectations. You, on the other hand, were as predictable as ever, and despite your surprise arrival, we all expected you to be home late, and we decided that there was nothing wrong with having a perfectly normal family day.

          "How can you fault us for that, Gin?" he asked, voice still low, standing up again and walking away from her. "It was all a twist of fate, it was all just by chance that Ron and I had gone out with Malfoy, that we had asked him to come over, that Teddy came to stay, that Malfoy met James and that Hermione joined us, and that everyone was having a good time. None of that was expected, but it was expected that you wouldn't be here. Honestly, Ginny, what else do you want me to say? Because I honestly don't want to hurt you by repeating all the old shit that we've alerady talked about before but can't seem to actually figure out. So tell me."

          "It's my fault, Harry!" Ginny cried out, face scrunched up. "I admit that, I know this is mostly my fault and I'm so sorry that I've fucked us up so badly without even knowing. I know that we've both sacrificed to make everything good for James, but you've been having to compromise more than I have, and only because you let me have the chance at my dreams. It's so stupid, I know," she was rambling now, "I keep chasing after what I want, but then I look back and realize that I've left everyone behind and I'm not part of the picture here anymore."

          "Finally realized that?" Harry couldn't help but ask. Ginny just looked even more remorseful.

          "I've missed a lot, I know that," she said, shaking so bad that Harry decided to comfort her. It was just what they did, they comforted each other, even though they were hurting each other. "I've always hated being away from James, but now I can't fucking accept that he's even more at ease with fucking Malfoy than with me! And I did all that, it was all my fault!"

          "This is old news, Gin," Harry pointed out. He felt like a dick, but it had to be done. Now was the time. "We've been avoiding it over the Floo, but now we have to open this up. You see how fucked up that has become, right?"

          Ginny nodded, using her hand to wipe at her face, but Harry steadied her with his arms so she had to look in his eyes.

          "What do you want?"

          "I want you, Harry. I want to be with you, and I want to be with James, and I want you both to see and know and feel that It's true!"

          Harry sighed. "And I want my life with you, Ginny. Not this fucking charade that we've ended up with over the last year. I can't share a life with you if you aren't even here to share it with. And we both know that ripping you away from your dreams, when you're so close to it, isn't exactly something you'd appreciate. But we've got to make a choice here. It's not just for our sakes anymore, Gin. All my decisions so far have been about you. About you and James. I think it's high time that you start thinking beyond yourself, think about what your choices mean for you, for us, for James."

          Ginny stood up, shoulders still obviously shaking. She moved slowly towards one of the windows overlooking the street. "I know," she said softly, meekly. "That's why I'd already made up my mind before I even came here."

          "And?"

          She looked back at him. "I plan to stay."

          The shock on Harry's face took five seconds to synchronize with the shock on his brain. When it did, he shook his head. He hadn't expected her to make this grand gesture so suddenly, after all the arguments they had had over the years. "You'll stay more often?" he asked tentatively.

          "I want to stay here. With you."

          "But what about the -"

          "I've requested for an indefinite leave of absence," she said. "It's not like I'm retiring or whatever. But priorities are priorities, and you two are at the top of mine."

          Harry blinked stupidly, as if seeing her in a different light. He knew how much this must have hurt her, and he had vowed to himself before, never to make her choose between whatever made her happy. If she could have everything, he would give it to her. He felt guilty.

          Ginny seemed to see it in his eyes. "No, Harry, this isn't about you. It's not your fault. I'm doing this because it's what's best. For all of us."

          He found himself slowly stepping towards her as if drawn by her gravity. He had given up a lot. He had made compromised. But this decision. This was the huge leap that he had never wanted to ask for. This was the grand gesture that Ginny was making to show him that she was serious.

          "Are you sure?"

          "I love you, Harry," Ginny said, voice barely a whisper now. "I really do. And I've been too blinded by my own ambition to show you. I love you, and I love James, and if this is what it takes, then it's not too high a price to pay."

          Harry was dumbfounded. "I - I love you, too Ginny, it's just..." his voice broke, and a teardrop betrayed him and slid down his cheek. "I don't know what to say or think..."

          "I want us to fix this, Harry. I want to show you that I'm willing to make changes in my life, too. I had hoped the compromises I used to make were enough, but they weren't. Only seeing James through the Floo every other day hurt so much more than I could bear..." she looked towards the wall that separated them from their sleeping son. "I was so jealous that you could spend every waking hour with him. And seeing all of you so happy today, so whole and complete, without me, made me even more sure that I want to be part of this family again, for real..."

          "You never stopped being part of us, Gin," Harry said, now moving to hold her closer. She let him pull her into his embrace, and Harry felt like something inside him clicked back into place.

          This morning had been a perfect portrait of a happy family in Harry's eyes. And he knew that now, with Ginny coming back to him, it was even more complete. Overwhelmed with their emotions, both he and Ginny fell to the floor, kneeling awkwardly and still holding tight to each other, finally breaking down from the sudden release of tension, their tears flowing unashamedly. Neither made a move to stand, or to leave. It had been a long six weeks, after all.

          Deep in his gut, Harry felt the stirrings that told him that this was another chance for them, another start, another beginning. And that was exactly what they needed.

 

         

         

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This chapter ends 2005. Thank you sooo much for all the comments, guys! My favorite part is reading all about how much everyone just absolutely HATES Ginny hahaha. Like I said, the plot is all written out already, and this is all part of the grand scheme of things. 
> 
> Also, I'm not just randomly adding in angst or something to twist you up hahaha. The precarious relationship between Ginny and Harry is very tricky to write realistically, but I have seen it in real life with one of my best friends who has a child with a woman from another country. Their relationship has been almost like this, with sacrifices being made from both sides, making the thing work but not exactly in a perfectly happy way. They both try, though, and I think Harry, being Harry, would always want to fix things, and Ginny, wanting everything in her life to be perfect, will also want to try.
> 
> Not everyone in my story is perfect, and it just so happens that Ginny here has the hardest time dealing with things maturely. I swear, when I write out these kinds of chapters, I really want to slap her hahahha. But she and Harry are trying, aren't they? :D Next chapter opens up to 2006, so stay tuned! Thank you again for all the comments, both positive and negative!


	16. Common Ground

**(Present, 2006)**

          If anyone had told his Hogwarts self that he would ever willingly subject himself to extended periods of exposure to the Golden Trio, Draco would have sent them a hex or three. Maybe up the arse, for good measure.

          Of course, present-day Draco was living almost the extreme opposite of the life he had once thought he would live. Here he was, in the bloody Burrow of all places, having a nice chat with Hermione - she had insisted some time ago that he use her given name, with the silent threat of 'or else'. She was undergoing some stress having to stay home after having her second child, and had invited Draco over since Astoria was visiting a few of her socialite friends. Draco couldn't even imagine what his childhood self would do if he had been told that he would be sharing a nice cup of tea with a Mudblood and actually be looking forward to doing it again. Ah, how laughable Fate was sometimes. And in such a short period of time, at that.

          After all, it had only been two months since he, Potter and Weasley had finally cracked the Pince case, and yet it seemed that Draco's life had already taken an irrevocable change of course because of it.

 

***

 

          Despite the Auror Corps' silence about how the case was cracked, Draco was surprised that he had been treated as a celebrated figure within the walls of Potter and Weasley's workplace for at least a month. His unprecedented Potions expertise had successfully led the MMI to the mysterious Persephone's Poison, which, as Draco had unerringly suggested, was the brainchild of Swedish brothers Edvard and Gøran Eilert. The potion, which had been created by their great-great-grandfather, was a potent means of spiriting away unwilling persons from their own homes. Its effects were similar to the combined symptoms of the Imperius and Amortentia, which rendered the victim highly suggestible and vulnerable to the one who administered the potion, this being highly dangerous as it kept the victim with complete confidence that they were only acting out of their own will, and not the suggestions of the poisoner. After only one dose, it left no room for doubt - the victim would always think and act according to the desires of the poisoner, and they would believe that they were doing it of their own free will.

          The more Draco read about it, the more he discovered that much of the marriages within the older Eilert Family had been arranged, and that most of those were influenced by Persephone's Poison. He hypothesized that the elder Eilerts had sought to build a formidable clan of Pureblood witches and wizards, and the family tree from hundreds of years ago proved that the marriages into the family were from highly affluent and distinguished families. The unwilling husbands and wives never knew better, as the Potion's effects were impossible to completely reverse, changing the way the victim thought and acted without truly affecting their entire personality. They probably even learned to be happily married to the Eilerts, ignorant of the nefarious scheme.

          When Draco had Flooed on the Monday right after their night out, he wasted no time in telling Potter, Weasley and Macmillan that the most common traits of the botanical ingredients had been the manipulation of the mind and heart, they were quick to conclude that Hal Pince had been a possible victim of the potion. His mind, heart and soul were wholly devoted to protecting the Eilert family despite whatever harm he may have befallen while doing so. It was no wonder that the MMI could find nothing incriminating in his mind or his actions. Potter was correct in assuming that Pince was merely a pawn who held no real value to the masterminds, but had turned out to be the key to unraveling the mystery.

          Tracking down the Eilert brothers took the rest of of the Aurors another three weeks, seeing as the two had been quite capable of covering their own tracks. Weasley led the investigation of the Aurors on field, while Potter kept his half of the team focused on profiling the Eilerts. St. Mungo's had quickly confirmed the presence of Persephone's Poison in all the deceased victims, now that Draco had provided them with what exactly to look for. Potter had complained to Draco that they had been driven crazy for months due to the lack of connection among the dead, and that he was looking forward to breaking into the minds of the criminal masterminds. They had ruined enough lives with their crimes, and Draco agreed with Potter that the families of the victims needed some sort of closure.

          When Weasley and Potter had finally traced the brothers to a highly warded manor, it all fell like clockwork, and Draco had to admit that he was impressed upon hearing that Potter had singlehandedly dueled both brothers, and rendered them both unconscious. After they were apprehended, Draco himself was called under strict confidence into the Ministry to bear witness to the final interrogation.

          He had never seen the well-rumored combined power that was Potter and Weasley at their most threatening, but when he did, he promised himself never ever ever to cross them and end up facing against them. Word around the Auror Corps was that the MMI heads had never failed to break into any criminal presented before them. After that particular half hour, Draco no longer doubted the stories. He had laughed about Weasley being called "scary", but now he knew that the right word was "terrifying". Why he ever thought the redhead was a spineless loser, Draco couldn't fathom, not after seeing him like that.

          And Potter. How could he even begin to describe that memory! Potter in his oxblood Auror robes, his stance relaxed, but wide and intimidating. His very presence exuded power, and though Weasley was the one with his wand trained steadily on one brother, Potter was clearly the bigger threat, wand or no. The pressure from Potter's magical aura was almost tangible, even in the Disillusioned observation room where Draco and the rest of the MMI team were watching.

          The Eilert brothers easily broke under the force that was Potter and Weasley. Edvard had taken longer than Gøran, but in the end they both admitted to the same crimes, and their confessions were cross referenced and proven consistent. Draco's requested presence became clear when he was asked to sign off as the Potions Master to officially confirm the truthfulness of the report with regards to the poisons and ingredients.

          Potter also got his closure; the brothers explained, under Veritaserum and out of fear of the Aurors, that they had used the secret weapon of their forebears to provide a highly controversial service to families who like the Eilerts, wanted to take only specified individuals, even against their will, into marriage. The only common factor among all the deceased victims was that they were previously engaged to someone who was desired by one of the Eilerts' clients. This service had been going on for years, but the carelessness of Hal Pince had proven to be their downfall. The deaths were supposed to look like accidents or suicides, but Pince had apparently failed at that - he had used the potion on the victims but had simply messed up the dosage. Such a simple oversight had taken down a long-standing serial murder case, which once again had proven Harry's claims over the MMI's success rate. Later, he had taken great care in recording every corner of their minds and memories to add to the official reports. Before any of them knew it, the case was brought before the Wizengamot, and finally closed. With both Eilerts, as well as their conspirators (quickly hunted down) taken into Azkaban, and all records and ingredients of the potion confiscated, the MMI were given a commendation by the Minister for Magic himself, and Draco given a special recommendation within the Department of Mysteries.

          Funnily enough, what stood out the most from Draco's memory was when Potter had taken him aside after the trial and personally thanked him for all his help. The gratitude, which could have been expressed in two words (or even one), had lasted a good six minutes and punctuated with much 'manly' hugs and pats on the back. Draco, who had been brought up with a slight aversion to physical affection (strictly limited from Lucius and embarrassingly exaggerated from Narcissa) found that he liked it.

 

***

 

          "How is Astoria's pregnancy going?" Hermione asked, pulling Draco away from his deep thoughts.

          "Our Healer says she'll be fine for as long as she avoids travelling abroad. She's been out and about, mostly mingling with her friends here, possibly trying to make up for all the European society balls she's missing by staying here."

          "How does she feel?"

          Draco knew that she was asking out of curiosity. From what Potter had told him, she had had a very dangerous and difficult first pregnancy, and her second, only a month ago, had been successful only because she had been given strict orders to stay home and remain stress-free. At least his wife was able to be as active a social butterfly as she always was, perhaps even more. It reminded him that he had chosen her well.

          "Apparently, the mood swings get much worse over time," he said with a slight grimace, "So you should, in fact, be asking _me_ how I feel."

          Hermione laughed delightedly. "Oh yes, there is that," she mused. "Ron and Harry confessed to me that they'd had to resort to hitting the pubs more often just to offset what they claimed was me and Ginny 'going barmy'."

          Draco attempted to keep his face straight as he recalled all the 'Call of the Pint' talks. He felt his lip fighting to curl up and it took all of his self-control not to let it show. "I wouldn't know," he sad off-handedly.

          "Oh don't you try that on me, Draco," she said with a little smirk, her voice full of humor. "I've spent too many years with the two worst liars on earth, and I think they're rubbing off on you. I'd've expected more from a Slytherin."

          This woman never misses a trick, Draco thought. He tried to give her a smirk of his own. "Pardon me, but I've been sworn into utmost secrecy and am forbidden by oath from betraying the brotherhood."

          "Oh, it's 'the brotherhood' now, is it?" she asked, eyebrow raised. Her eyes were sparkling with mirth though, and her lip quirked up, which Draco took to mean that she wasn't offended about the men keeping their secrets. But there was a shadow of doubt in her look, and Draco could be sure that there was something else behind her inquisitiveness that she wasn't directly volunteering. Well, he could wait.

          "Amazing how much things have changed in such a short time," he mused, taking a sip of his tea. "Here I am, defending Potter and Weasley's honor from _you_ , of all people. For Merlin's sake, just the mere act of having tea and biscuits with a Muggleborn, how preposterous!" He scrunched his nose uncharacteristically in pretend disgust. At this point in their friendship, he and Hermione had grown some sort of understanding - part of it was how Draco tempered his sarcasm, and Hermione had been witty enough to roll with his dark humor sometimes.  

          Hermione bit her lip to stop from grinning. "Whatever would the Malfoy forebears say!" she said with a dramatic tone. Malfoy couldn't help but laugh.

          "'Fraternizing with the enemy! Mingling with Mudbloods! A taint upon the Noble House of our Forebears!"

          Hearing such things from Draco broke Hermione's self-control, and they both snorted in laughter at the image of the Malfoy ancestors rolling in their graves.

          "Mama! Mamaaaaaa!" a delicate voice suddenly pierced their bubble of happiness, and Hermione stood up, brushing off crumbs from her lap.

          "Sorry," she apologized sheepishly. "It's only me today taking care of both Hugo and Rosie."

          Malfoy nodded in understanding. He knew that Weasley took his job seriously, especially now that Hermione had been ordered by the Healers to stay at home. Draco wondered if her earlier flash of anxiety had anything to do with that.

          "Is there anything I can help you with?" he offered sincerely. Hermione looked at him as if laying eyes on him for the first time. "What?" he said, "I'm going to be a father, Potter agrees that I may as well collect as much experience as I can."

          At that, Hermione beamed and motioned him to follow into the nursery, where Hugo, now a very healthy (and noisy) boy, was only just waking from his nap. "There's nothing much to help with, though I'm thankful for the company." In a bassinet, Draco could see the sleeping bundle that was Rose. He went up to her and tucked in a stray lock behind her tiny ear, rearranging the miniscule blanket around her.

          "Who would have thought we'd all become parents, eh?" he whispered, not really aware that Hermione had heard him.

          Hermione shrugged, then picked up Hugo, bouncing him gently in her arms in an effort to soothe him. "Don't even get me started," she sighed. "I hadn't even had any plans of having a child this early, much less two children."

          Draco was taken aback. "What do you mean, this early?" he asked. Twenty-six for wizards was a typical age to have two or even three children.

          "Oh, it's different with Muggles, you see," she explained. Malfoy sat himself in one of the chairs, his attention on what he knew was an upcoming lecture. "Muggles continue their education formally in university, though it certainly isn't a must. But it is a common choice. One's career usually takes off in later twenties or even thirties. And further education is also an option, quite like your Potions Mastery, in fact, but it does take longer."

          "And you wanted to do all of that?" Draco guessed. She nodded. "So... what happened?"

          Hermione stared at the wall behind Draco. "Ron and I found out about Hugo. It wasn't really an accident, but it wasn't like we were trying, either. It just happened. Ron, of course, was over the moon. I was...in shock for a while. But I got over it quickly."

          "You still retained your career, though, right?" He wasn't exactly up to date with the Trio gossip these past few years, and only remembered snippets from conversations with Potter and Weasley.

          "Yes, I did. I held two posts then, one full time and the other a freelance consultancy. I managed alright, but I did get an earful from Harry..."

          This information was new to Draco. "Potter? I assumed Weasley would have been more concerned."

          "Oh, he was, of course," Hermione held Hugo closer, moving his head so he could rest it on her shoulder more comfortably. "The thing is, Ron and I were sort of... dancing around some problems at the time." A faint blush washed over her cheeks, and she looked away from Draco. "Harry was the one who shook me up and made me rethink a lot of things then."

          To be honest, Draco couldn't imagine Potter playing some sort of relationship expert. He had always had the impression that the Gryffindor was socially inept, at the very least. He wondered about what Potter might have said to Hermione to have changed her perspective so much.

          "I didn't want kids so early, Draco," she said in a soft voice, as if afraid of actually saying it out loud. "Now we've got two, and I'm still getting used to being the stay-at-home mother when part of me still yearns for the career I had so carefully planned out..."

          It was then that Draco put together both sides of what he heard from Weasley and Hermione. "You know, Hermione," he began in a slow, soothing voice, "in the Wizarding world, children are cherished. Dare I say it, the tradition was to start as early as possible, and have as many offspring that a couple could manage to raise. The Weasleys are a very good example, actually."

          "Yeah, Ron's told me as much, when we were, you know, still deciding how to...with the baby..."

          "Did he give you a hard time?" Draco was only so familiar with the pressure.

          "Not really, no. Mostly we fought about our differing priorities. I'm not the kind of person to leave my work behind when I know that it's within my capabilities to excel. Being offered the position of Legal consultant to the Minister in addition to my job at the Ministry was a prize that I felt I had earned. I never saw it as a burden."

          "Were you away all the time, then?" Draco asked. It was the only viable reason he could think of that would push Ron away.

          "No, actually." Hermione checked on Hugo and found that he was already fast asleep. She didn't let him go, though. "We both worked reasonable hours. I never left too early nor came home too late. But..."

          "...but?"

          "Well, Harry... Harry came to me one day and told me about how he thought I'd been pushing myself too much mentally and emotionally that it was affecting my physical well-being. Sounded like a load of waffle at the time..." she laughed weakly.

          "Merlin, Hermione!" Draco's eyes were wide. "I'm not sure if you were told by the Healers, but mental stress for wizards are a more serious matter than it probably is for Muggles!"

          Hermione was confused. She frowned at Draco, as if it were his fault that she had never heard this before. "What do you mean?"

          Draco took a deep breath. He couldn't believe she had taken this for granted. No wonder she and Weasley had had problems. "Magic is highly dependent on the well-being of one's mind, body and soul," he explained. "That's why it is very difficult to use magic when under pressure, and only the more powerful or well-practiced wizards are able to do so. It's also how Dementors make it hard for anyone to use magic - they cause severe depression and anxiety, weakening the mind and soul without having to harm the physical body. Yes, I'm aware that the concept is very abstract," he said pointedly, "but what we currently know of magic is that it is a direct reflection of one's being. What happened to you... Merlin, it's a good thing Potter took notice! When a witch or wizard is under constant stress and anxiety, it causes their magic to fluctuate dangerously, and possibly even weaken beyond repair!"

          "I - I didn't-" Hermione stammered. "The Healers just told me to stay home, bed rest and everything, but they never really explained why."

          "Probably because they assumed you already knew."

          "But - " She looked down into the red hair of her son. ”Did it really make a difference?"

          Draco chose his words carefully. "If you hadn't been relieved of the stress you were exposing yourself to, your magic would have weakened... and stopped supporting Hugo... and yourself."

          "I didn't realize..." she murmured, more to herself. Then she looked up at him. "Harry told me that I was putting up my own obstacles, making out to myself that things were more difficult than they were, just so I could push myself further... I never really thought it was possibly as dangerous as you just told me now..."

          Draco nodded. "It becomes extremely dangerous for childbirth, because the mother's magic is supporting two individuals. The slightest fluctuation would have caused irreparable damage at the very least. Potter was wise to point it out, even though he probably didn't realize the severity, either."

          They were quiet for a while, Draco understanding Hermione's need to internally file all the fresh information she had just learned. He went back to fawning over little Rosie, smiling in spite of himself as she fidgeted in her sleep.

          "So I guess they weren't all over exaggerating, pulling me from my work and trapping me here," she said with a slight grimace. "There was a time when I began to resent it, because staying here made me feel weak, useless, and powerless. It took me a quite a lot of pondering, but I finally did realize that I do like being a mother as much as I love my career. I'm good at my job, you see, but I know now that I was going about it the wrong way. Ron and I have talked at length about it, and I think I'm willing to make adjustments so I don't end up creating my own demons again."

          "I understand your career plans, the importance you put in ambition," he said. After all, Astoria and I had gone against tradition by pursuing our own interests and not merely living from our inheritance. Even after giving birth, my wife plans on going about her so-called diplomatic missions here and abroad, because it's who she is," Draco shrugged. "In any case, I'm glad you've ironed it out with Weasley. It must have been difficult, having such opposing ideals. But at least he understands your goals, and now you understand that wizards, Pureblood or no, place great value in children, even if the conception was, shall we say, accidental. No matter the circumstance, every magical child is celebrated."

          "Is it because of the smaller proportion of wizards to Muggles?"

          "Somewhat. Wizarding families only became smaller at the onset of Pureblood hysteria in the Middle Ages. Marriages at the time were highly scrutinized and so were the births. Parents avoided inheritance conflicts by limiting their heirs and keeping the lines 'unified'. Somehow though, the later generations paid for it. Something changed in the magical capacity to conceive." His face took on a bitter expression. "You might notice, there's only one Parkinson, one Goyle, one Zabini, and so on. The luckier ones are the Notts and Greengrasses. My mother's family also had a lucky generation - she had two sisters, and they had several cousins among the Blacks. The line died out, though. The Malfoy family has only ever had one heir for the last six centuries.

          "Even now, most of the families in the Sacred Twenty Eight cannot manage to sire more than one or two children," he said morosely, looking her in the eye. "And one always covets what they cannot have. A child is essentially a gift of magic."

          Hermione was silent, absorbing this new tidbit about the culture that she had thought she already knew. After another comfortable silence, she finally decided to return Hugo to his crib. Then, she led Malfoy back into the kitchen, where their tea had gone cold. She quickly Charmed the kettle to heat more water.

          "You really want this," she asked, but it was more of a statement. Draco nodded, a smile slowly growing on his lips.

          Hermione practically lit up, beaming at him now. "You know... Just hearing you lecture me about wizarding history... it's obvious that your son or daughter will be very much loved and cherished."

          Something caught in his throat, and he was afraid that if he opened his mouth to speak, he would break down right in front of her. Nothing more embarrassing than a Malfoy revealing his innermost self-doubts about parenthood to a Muggleborn.

          "I think I know what you're thinking," she said gently when he remained silent. "You've done so well over the years, and I believe you and Astoria have completely redefined what it means to be a Malfoy. There's no need for you to ever feel like you can't be a good parent, because of your own past."

          She had hit the nerve. "I...I'm afraid of not being able to… It's not like I had a perfectly good role model growing up." There, he said it.

          Hermione stopped what she was doing to look at him, giving him all her attention. "In a way, you remind me of Harry." At the look of incredulity on Draco's face, she laughed softly. "He's got quite a family history, though it's not really for me to share, but... well, he never had parents, and he never really had a father figure to guide him. He had the same fears as you, but look at him now. He loves being a dad, and it comes to him naturally, as I'm sure it will do for you," Hermione said with a note of conviction, busying herself with pouring him another cup.

          Draco accepted gratefully, holding it close and staring at the liquid as if he could divine his future from its depths. He said nothing, but it seemed his face was betraying him a lot today, and Hermione was reading him like a book.

          "You're not him, Draco. You're more than Lucius could have ever been. Much more. And for what it's worth, I really do believe you'd make a great dad," she added matter-of-factly.

          The words washed over him, stilling the last remnants of insecurity that dwelt in his heart. As he sat there with Hermione, sipping their tea in companionable silence, he felt himself relax for the first time in months.  


***

 

          Harry woke up and groggily sat up in bed. Something had woken him suddenly, though he couldn't remember what. From downstairs, he heard the muffled sound of James crying, and he was immediately on his feet and pounding down the stairs.

          He caught sight of Ginny, looking slightly harassed, trying to soothe James and stop him from bawling like a Mandrake. She saw him walk into the sitting room, the panic evident in her eyes.

          "Harry!" she cried. "I don't know what's gotten into him! He was alright just a couple of minutes ago, but then he started up and I haven't been able to calm him down!"

          "Relax, Gin," Harry said, thinking to himself that he had to soothe her first before they could tackle the problem with James. "Did you check his nappies?"

          "I did, of course. Didn't need changing. And he wasn't hungry either when I tried to give him his bottle." She carefully handed the baby to Harry, who automatically tucked him onto his side.

          The last two months of living together was quite an experience. Despite Ginny moving in with him two years ago, she had had training every weekday, and was home only at nights and in the weekends. Now that she was on leave for a quarter (she had to reapply regularly), it was like she and Harry had had to get used to actually being each other again. Part of it, of course, was that Ginny had to relearn how to handle James. They had already gotten down the feeding, burping, changing nappies and his sleep schedule. Ginny had absorbed it all like a sponge, which Harry was grateful for. He was now getting enough sleep, and she wasn't as exhausted from training, so they were able to alternate.

          Right now, he was mentally checking off the list of reasons why James would be upset. Then he realized it was a bit warm.

          "Ginny, have you refreshed the Temperature Charm?" He had discovered earlier on that James was easily bothered when a room became too warm and stuffy. Now that the weather was transitioning, the fire was still necessary, so he had kept up a Temperature Charm to act as a thermostat for James and ensure he was comfortable.

          "No, why?" she asked, confused.

          "James doesn't like it when it's all stuffy," Harry explained.

          "Oh." With a wave, Ginny reset the Charm on the snow globe they kept in the room for that purpose. Immediately, their surroundings became noticeably cooler, and it only took a couple of minutes for Harry to calm James down. Harry settled himself, James still in tow, on the couch by the fire. Ginny slumped in after him, looking glum.

          "Good morning to you, too," Harry quipped. "You were up early."

          "Force of habit," she said. "I'm used to being up at the crack of dawn, remember?"

          Harry nodded, playing absent-mindedly with James' chubby fingers. Ginny reached over to run her fingers through her son's hair. "Did you spend the morning with James?"

          "I did," Ginny answered. "I had a bit of trouble trying to feed him when he woke, but I managed."

          Harry placed a hand on her knee and squeezed gently. "I'm glad you're here, and I'm sure our son is, too."

          She gave a smile and went on to try to fix James' hair. "He definitely got this mop from you," she said accusingly at Harry. "I've tried every grooming Charm and it won't stay put!"

          "Yeah, well, I turned out alright with this on my head, so he'll be fine."

          There was a popping sound, and Kreacher appeared, bowing low. "Good morning Master Harry," he wheezed. "You have missed the breakfast today, is there anything you want Kreacher to prepare for lunch?"

          "No, that's alright," Harry said. "I can cook our lunch today, Kreacher, you can go and have a bit of a lie down."

          When Kreacher disappeared, Ginny took James and placed him on her lap. He cooed at her and grabbed at the lock of hair that was hanging in front of her shoulder. "Why don't we go out for lunch?" she asked. Harry shrugged. "It's going to be less trouble, and you won't have to clean up anything."

          "I like cooking," he said defensively, pouting just a bit.

          Ginny laughed. "I know you do, but at this point, it's a bit unnecessary seeing you have a house elf you don't use, and limitless places to go for food."

          Harry did love cooking though, but he understood what Ginny meant. She hates cleaning up messes, and always wrinkled her nose whenever she watched Harry prepare a meal. Sure, she loved the romantic candlelit spreads he would make in occasion for the two of them, but she didn't think cooking everyday meals was worth the mess.

          "Anything in mind?" he asked.

          "Italian?"

          "We had that last time."

          "Indian?"

          "I can cook a much better curry than that place we went to."

          "What about that place I keep hearing about? Viridian?"

          Harry felt a pang of something as he had a moment of reminiscing. It had been a while since he, Ron and Malfoy had gone for their boy's night. If he were honest with himself, he missed it a bit.

          "Viridian, it is then."

 

***

 

          Somehow, being there with Ginny gave the place an entirely different feel for Harry. He figured it was because he, Ron and Malfoy had gone here to unwind over a couple of beers (and the occasional Firewhiskey). They had exchanged some very personal stories here as well, which made it seem to Harry like they had built a fort of sorts. His eyes glanced towards their regular booth, hidden just beyond the last alcove. He didn't even think to bring Ginny there, deciding instead to seat nearer the front windows, where they could observe the people outside as they came and went. People watching was always entertaining.

          It also provided a good filler for when they didn't have much to say.

          James was slapping his fisted hands on the top of his high chair, so Ginny took his wrists and gently admonished him until the baby relented and put his attention elsewhere. No one around them batted an eyelash. Today, Harry had decided to make the three of them unrecognizable to anyone, so that they could have a lunch out together as a family without any pressure. No one in the wizarding world even knew about James, so the three of them were just an average picture of a happy family dining out.

          "-and they just went mental! One of the - Harry, are you alright?"

          Harry snapped out of his daze, unaware that he had completely zoned out in the middle of the conversation. He quickly apologized to Ginny and went back to eating his chips.

          "Got a lot on your mind?" Ginny inquired, digging into her shepherd's pie (which Harry insisted was subpar compared to his own recipe. Ginny couldn't really tell the difference, both were alright). "You seem to be a bit... off."

          "Sorry, it's just... I don't know, it feels odd having so much down time after the Pince case. We were all on tenterhooks for months, and now, it's back to parchment work. I'm even lucky because I at least get to do it from home with you and James near me. I imagine Ron's having a slow week at the office."

          "I guess criminals must go on holiday sometime," she mused. "At least you're getting to spend your time the way you want it. Maybe you should consider starting a consultancy. Something with less work and flexible hours, instead of being a full time Auror."

          Harry's head snapped up to meet Ginny's eyes. "It wouldn't be the same," was all he said. Being an Auror meant so much to him. It represented all his hard work, his training, his effort to be good enough to earn the title. "Sure, the hours are demanding, but it's worth it."

          "It was just an idea," Ginny said lightly. "We should check in with Hermione more, if Ron's still full time at the Ministry and Mum and Dad are in France, she'll need all the help she can get."

          Harry let the change of topic go. Ginny had always thought that he would want to be in charge of his life the moment things settled after the War. To be honest, though, Harry had wanted stability. He wanted a home. He wanted something permanent and reliable. The _Solum Sanctuarii_ was the biggest step to his goals, of course, and he had taken the Crup by its tail when he invoked it. But after that, he just wanted structure.

          That was it. He wanted structure in his life, because he hadn't had a drop of it in his entire existence. He didn't think his stay at the Dursley's was bad enough, because he had a daily routine and he stuck to it. He liked his job because it gave him a list of things to do, and at the end of the day he got to cross all of it out and go to bed and start again in the morning. Perhaps the Auror career was a bit more exhausting, but for now it had served its purposes. Going on a consultancy felt like being lazy to him. It was giving up responsibility, it was going back to being lost and pretty much useless.

          Perhaps as a child, discovering magic for the first time and wanting to explore it, the sense of adventure and proximity to danger was cause for excitement, and he was always ready to rush into anything that came his way. After the war though, a part of him realized that he was tired of adventure. Sure, he was still the first to jump into action when facing off dangerous opponents on the field. But after James, he had also begun to crave for a nice talk with friends over a pint.

          His eyes once more glanced towards 'their' booth. Ginny was still talking, he realized.

          "I said, we should check in on Hermione."

          "Oh, right," Harry said, forcing himself to pay attention. He was being really rude. "No need today though, from what I know, Malfoy's been over already. So at least we know she gets company apart from us." He still thought it was amusing that Hermione and Malfoy had taken to each other quite well.

          Ginny apparently didn't.

          "I'm not so keen on leaving them alone for too long," she said flippantly, but Harry heard an undertone of a growl. "I mean, sure he's changed for the better and all, but he's still a Slytherin, and probably has a lot of hidden motives or something."

          Harry couldn't help it. He snorted. "That guy will always have an agenda, Gin, but nowhere near as bad as you make it sound. He's just not good at being evil."

          She quirked up an eyebrow at his defense of his old enemy. "You know I still can't believe how close you blokes have gotten in such a short time. Considering all your history."

          "We've more in common than anyone thinks," Harry answered, thinking back to that one long night he'd had with the blonde git.

          "You're nothing alike," Ginny complained.

          _Then you don't know me as well as you think_ , Harry thought somewhat sadly. It was like the time someone commented offhandedly that Harry had done something worthy of Slytherin, and Ron had quickly blanched and said that Harry was as much a Slytherin as Ron was a Malfoy. Some stupid comment like that.

          Of course, neither Ron nor Hermione, or even Ginny actually knew about the Sorting Hat story, but it made him feel bad that he couldn't readily open up these small secrets to those who were closest to him.

          Well, except for Malfoy.

          Harry sighed. It was going to be a long day if he was punctuating every thought with a memory of the blond prat while trying to keep his attention on his fiancée.

          It was probably the result of being holed up in his own home, without all the banter provided by the Aurors at the office. He was most definitely going stir crazy. He reminded himself to owl Ron to see if another boy's night could be arranged as soon as possible.

          That little thought put a small smile on his face, and he was able to go through the rest of their lunch without further interruptions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my readers, Jack_Dawkins, asked about details regarding the nature of contraception in the story, and it made me realize that I hadn't thought to include that (for fear of putting too much technical details into a story).
> 
> Anyway, here's what's written in my plot notes: "Harry and Ginny were actively using contraceptive spells but failed to cast them one night when they were already in the heat of the moment. On the other hand, Ron and Hermione, were using the same contraceptive spells, and didn't fail to cast them properly (coz they're actually responsible), but Hermione's fluctuating magic messed it up (but she has no idea even now).


	17. Crossing Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! Had sooo much going on (both good and bad) over the last couple months. I hope the break hasn't discouraged you from continuing! Anyway, here's more Drarry! :)

**(Present, 2006)**

            There was only a month left until the birth of their son, and Draco had yet to discover the extent of his patience. So far, he had gone above and beyond the call of duty, obliging Astoria and providing anything and everything she asked for with no question. He felt smug about it, of course, and wasted no chance of flaunting his perfect self to his new friends. Because that's what Potter and Weasley had become to him. In actuality, the two blokes were very helpful when it came to preparing for his imminent fatherhood, and Draco was very grateful for things to have turned out the way they had.

            His well-touted patience, however, was wearing thin these days, and he often found himself collapsing into his favorite armchair by the fire nursing a glass of Ogden's Finest. He felt oddly at peace whenever he did so, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

            Settling further into the cushioned backrest, he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. The only times he remembered spending this much time in front of the hearth was when he had to either make or take a Floo call to Potter during the Eilert case.

            _Those were the days_ , Draco mused with a little smile. He wouldn't admit it to either Potter or Weasley, but a part of him greatly missed the challenge of working with the MMI. Sure, he was now better acquainted with his old enemies, and secured a higher position (albeit highly secret) in the DOM, but he realized that nothing could ever replace the rush of adrenaline as they put their heads together and raced against time to save lives. Having constant correspondence with Potter wasn't as bad as he had thought, either.

            In fact, Draco somewhat missed it.

            Not that he missed Potter, per se. But Draco had only corresponded regularly and intimately with Blaise and Pansy throughout most of his adult life. Adding Potter to the very short list was unexpectedly pleasant. Something about the Chosen One resonated with him, and it was so very easy to fall into unfiltered conversations and casual banter. If he were being truly honest with himself, Draco would admit that he sorely missed the interaction.

            "Darling?" Astoria's voice carried from the hallway. Draco savored the last gulp of burning sweetness before pulling himself out of his comfortable seat.

            He found his wife in their private sitting room, laid out delicately on one of the lounges, her hair draped over the edge and brushing the carpet.

            "You're meant to be asleep by now, love," he said quietly, admonishing her as gently as he could. "You're too close to the day, and the Healer did say you'd have to get as much rest as you can."

            Astoria huffed tiredly. "I know," she replied. "I just couldn't sleep."

            "Is something the matter?" Draco felt that he sometimes worried too much, something that Pansy accused him of at every opportunity, but he felt justified when it concerned his child. Astoria seemed to be staring at the wall, as if refusing to meet his eyes.

            She didn't speak for a while, which alarmed Draco somewhat, but he stayed the entire time that she was silent. Finally though, she seemed to realize his presence again after several minutes. "I'm sorry, Draco," she sighed. "I didn't mean to bother you so late at night-"

            "Do you need me to get you anything?" he prompted, eager to please.

            Astoria laughed. "No, silly, you've already gone and done it," she said with an uncharacteristic giggle as if she had a private joke that Draco didn't understand. It unnerved him a bit, if he were being honest.

            "How are you feeling?" he asked, worried.

            His wife suddenly turned to look at him, her eyes slightly dazed as if she weren't seeing him. "I'd like to say I'm very sorry, but it doesn't seem quite right if I don't mean it, does it?"

            Draco felt confused. "What do you mean?"

            She lazily shrugged her shoulders. "I'm afraid this wasn't part of the plan, but it's a better guarantee, isn't it? He'll never let go now. He'll never find out. He'll never doubt us. There's no need for you to keep pressuring me anymore."

            "You've lost me." Draco was feeling more perplexed. Was this behavior to be expected? And truly, the child was not part of the plan, but he had thought that they'd agreed he, their son, was a blessing. He had no idea where these sentiments were coming from, nor what they even meant. And who was never letting go?! He certainly wasn't aware of pressuring her in any way...

            "It's her potions," a soft voice whispered from behind him, and Draco turned to his mother, anxiety clear in his stormy eyes.

            "What potions?" He honestly felt like he'd been asking unanswered questions since he walked in.

            "One of the potions is to ease her pain," Narcissa explained calmly. "She drank it about an hour ago, and it seems one of the effects is a sort of dreamy lucidity."

            "So..."

            "So, she's been waxing poetic about matters that make sense only to herself."

            Draco let out the breath that he had been withholding. "I thought... never mind."

            Narcissa looked sideways at her son, concern painted on her delicate face. "Is something the matter, dear?" she asked. Draco caught her glancing at Astoria.

            "No, mother," he said immediately. "I had worried when she began speaking nonsense, but as you have said, it's no problem at all. Though the next three or four weeks..."

            The embrace was sudden, but Draco welcomed his mother's show of affection. Though she was slighter than him, it felt like her slender arms were holding him up and keeping him aloft of his problems. For a terrifying second, he felt sixteen again, helpless and alone. Deep down, he knew that it wasn't the pregnancy that worried him so, but his wife's nonsensical words.

            "It will be fine," she assured him, her words a blanket of comfort on his anxiety-ridden mind. "I'll stay with her now, you should go and get rest."

            Draco nodded absently and kissed Astoria's forehead gently before walking out. He looked back briefly to see his mother seat herself on the lounge at Astoria's feet.

            He didn't bother doing anything other than to collapse on their bed. He stared up at the canopy of the four-poster and let his thoughts wander.

            He was absolutely terrified right now. He was worried thrice over, for himself, Astoria and their son. There was always that small part of him that needed things to go according to plan, or his mind would stumble back to dark corners and he would lose himself again.

            For some reason, he thought of Potter.

            Out of all of Draco's childhood friends, acquaintances, colleagues and associates, the Chosen One was the only wizard he could think of that could probably understand how his inner fears ate away at him and rendered him helpless. They had both survived the war under the shadow of a madman, and both within the manipulative machinations of controlling men. His enemy, Draco had belatedly realized, was perhaps the only one who could ever truly sympathize.

            And that was why he found himself throwing Floo powder into the hearth and shouting out Potter's address.

 

***

 

            Harry had just settled down into his most worn-down couch with book in hand when the Floo went off. Groaning with frustration, he waved his hand to allow the call, and quite appropriately sputtered when he saw the blond in his fire.

            "Malfoy?!" he exclaimed.

            "Hello, Potter," the disembodied head in the flames said, somewhat sheepishly. Since when did Slytherins ever allow themselves to sound even remotely sheepish?

            Harry got over his initial shock and moved closer to the fire. "Er...Are you alright?"

            Malfoy's eye-roll was clear even amidst the glow of the fire, and so was his snarky tone. "Only you would immediately ask if I were alright. Really got that saving-people-thing that Hermione keeps mentioning, eh?"

            Harry gritted his teeth and prepared for a biting remark, but then he saw Malfoy's expression change for a second and he immediately decided not to let their schoolyard immaturity get the better of him tonight. "Why did you call?" he asked, trying to keep the impatience from his voice.

            Malfoy stared him down (or so it seemed to Harry), but then seemed to make a silent decision. In less than a minute, his haughty proud face melted into an expression of sadness and worry. "I needed-" he took a deep breath -"I thought I could use a - I thought I'd talk with you - for a bit -"

            Harry studied Malfoy's apparition. His Auror's skills were honed to perfection, and his brain had automatically begun cataloguing whether or not Malfoy had any malicious intent or ulterior motive. Unfortunately, the Gryffindor in him also reacted to the perceived helplessness and desperation. With a sigh, he laid his book down and tilted his head in inquiry.

            "Would you like to come through?"

 

***

 

            "I have no idea what I'm doing here," Draco grumbled to himself. Unfortunately, Potter had heard him.

            "You were the one who thought to Fire-call me close to eleven. I'm just trying to be a good host." Potter was levitating a tray of tea and biscuits behind him before laying it down onto the table between him and Draco.

            "Perhaps... I can't get over my surprise that you would actually invite me to cross into your Floo..."

            "That makes two of us," Potter answered nonchalantly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. And I've made your tea as you like it." He indicated the cup in front of him with an exaggerated flourish of his hand like an overzealous waiter at a fancy restaurant.

            The unwarranted action made Draco's lip curl up just a bit, and he slowly took the cup with as little trepidation as he could manage. Truthfully though, just the bit of perfectly made tea made him more relaxed despite being in the home of his new "friend", and in his dressing gown, no less.

            It was a blessing that Potter didn't seem to mind. Perhaps he really was a good friend to have in one's circle.

            It was also a blessing that Potter didn't seem the kind of person to push for information. While Draco sat silently and sipped on his hot tea, the Auror merely leaned back into his chair and waited patiently. Perhaps all the time interrogating criminals gave him enough experience to know when someone didn't want to talk. He could probably wring it out of him, as Draco had already observed once before in the Ministry. He was grateful, therefore, for Potter's quiescence.

            "Astoria is very close to having our son," he said suddenly into the silence. He had hoped to be much more articulate but apparently his eloquence had gone away to wherever his Malfoy pride had disappeared to when he Flooed in the first place.

            Potter acted as though it were a normal conversation though. "That's wonderful, mate!" he said. Draco noticed that the brunet kept his tone light. His smile was no less friendly. "Have you thought of any names?"

            Draco looked at Potter as if he were an obscure Potions manual. "Names?" he asked curiously.

            "Yeah," the man said, nodding enthusiastically. "Surely you've thought out a couple in preparation for the birth, right?"

            "Of course not," Draco answered. "The child's name will be given on the day of birth, as my mother sees fit."

            "Your mother?" Potter seemed to be confused. "Why not you?"

            "Me, name my child?" The very idea was so ludicrous to Draco. "Oh, I see, you're not familiar with this particular tradition either, are you?"

            When Potter quirked up an eyebrow, Draco sighed. "Of course the more affluent family, in this case, mine, has the honor of bestowing the child's name. Due to certain, er, complications with the family situation, I am the acting Lord Malfoy, but the happy power still belongs to my mother, the Lady Black. That line is still above the name of Greengrass, so I am quite sure that my son will end up having a constellation or star for his name."

            "Hang on. So..." Potter's brows came together as a show of his intellectual capacity. Obviously very little. "So your parents didn't name you?"

            "No, I was named by my grandfather."

            "Hm," Potter said noncommittally. "Interesting. I'm pretty sure the Weasleys don't follow that particular tradition. Molly has mentioned once or twice how she named her children from someone special to her."

            Malfoy feigned a look of disbelief, which he knew Potter would take as a joke. "How preposterous. Naming is such a great moment in a Pureblood's life, old families even had it professionally done before."

            "I don't know," Potter shrugged. "I guess where I'm from, it's quite a personal experience for parents to name their child."

            "Is that a Muggle sentiment?" There was no venom in his question, only mild curiosity.

            "I'm not sure," Potter said, looking pensive. Draco noticed his green eyes turned upwards at the ceiling as if he were trying to see his thoughts. "I was raised by Muggles, but it's not as if I was exposed to the culture, you know? And among the wizards and witches I've met, I guess the subject of naming hasn't really come up. Though I know Ron was named for one of his great uncles, and Hermione got hers because her parents were fans of mythology. I've no idea if I'm named after someone, but Sirius did mention once that my parents had argued about naming me. To be honest, I think my mother won that with her 'Muggle sentiments'," he said with a bit of a grin.

            Draco marveled how Potter always managed to look into his past, full of hurt and pain, and still find something good to take from it. "The Potters were Pureblood, so if your parents got to name you, then I'm sure your mother did indeed twist your father's arm somehow."

            Potter gave a sort of bark of laughter, which was unexpected, but melted the bit of frost from the depths of Draco's heart. He couldn't help but grin.

            "If you could name your son, then," Potter suddenly had a serious look in his eyes. "If you could get rid of those old traditions, what would you name your son?"

            No one had ever asked him that, as he would have only had to think about doing so for his future grandchildren. He was silent as he pondered this odd question, and missed the way that Potter was glancing at him from behind his cup of tea.

 

***

 

            Harry was beginning to realize just how much they didn't know about each other's history. It made him wonder how many times he and Malfoy could have reacted better to their mutual animosity had they any idea of the other's past. Now that they were able to talk like this, it almost seemed silly to think that Malfoy couldn't get over his old prejudice against Muggles, or Harry, the bias against purebloods that he had absorbed from the first moment he had entered the magical community. It had shaped the way their lives went so many years ago, but now it all seemed so silly.

            "Did you get to name your son?" Malfoy's question took him out of his wandering thoughts.

            "Yes, I did, actually," Harry said with pride, giving his guest a brilliant smile. "It took a bit of talk with Ginny, of course, but she agreed that James Sirius was a great way to honor my father and godfather."

            He remembered how he and Ginny had had long discussions about how they would name their son. She had wanted to name him Fred, but George had claimed the name for his own future child, and everyone immediately agreed to that. Sure, the names were plain and simple, but they had both fallen in love with him when he first came into the world, and the name seemed a perfect fit.

            There was a complex expression shadowing Malfoy's face. "Too simple for you?" Harry asked, somewhat amused. "Not enough obscure constellations to suit your taste?"

            Malfoy snorted. "Shut it," he said, tossing a biscuit at him. "I happen to think it's a fine tradition within the Black family."

            "Don't you run out though?" Harry asked. "I mean, I remember Astronomy with Professor Sinistra, and there are only a handful of star names that actually sound decent."

            "Scorpius," Malfoy said. "I've always liked Scorpius."

            Perhaps Malfoy expected him to take the mickey, but Harry actually paused to think about the choice. "Scorpius..." he whispered, as if tasting it on his tongue. "That actually sounds... well, it's as odd as any wizarding name, as pretentious as a Malfoy, and as uniquely memorable as Draco... not as sinister as Lucius, which is a plus..."

            Another biscuit flew his way, but when he looked, there was definitely a hint of amusement in the blonde's eyes. Somehow, the absurdity of biscuit-throwing between two grown men was accepted.

            "Any idea what your mum might name him then?" Harry asked, after deftly catching the flying biscuit and stuffing it into his mouth. Malfoy shook his head. Harry shrugged. "I guess it's not the same for you then if you can shrug your shoulders like that. It does take away a lot of pressure, you lucky bastard. I had Arthur, Molly and Ginny to please while I spent months deciding on a name."

            Malfoy cocked his head to the side. "That's true. Less pressure sounds good. I've got enough going on as it is."

            "Is that why you thought to call tonight?" Harry finally thought it appropriate to get to the bottom of Malfoy's odd call.

            "Possibly."

            Harry let him have the silence needed to gather his thoughts. The fact that the man had actually agreed to step into his Floo in his sleepwear was kind of a hint of how serious his desperation was.

            "I've realized..." Malfoy took a breath before he could keep going. "I've realized that you, of all people, could probably understand me."

            "Yes, we'd sort of established that a while back," Harry said with a slight smirk. Malfoy glared at him, though, so he schooled his expression into what he hoped was a serious one.

            "I-I used to get nightmares, have I told you that?"

            No, Harry hadn't been told. But he had always assumed that living under the same roof as Voldemort would have unhinged a normal man, more so a teenager. He shook his head, so that Malfoy wouldn't feel as if he had been interrupted.

            "I've always had them, you know," the blond continued, now speaking quietly. "Since the Dark Lor- since Voldemort had come back. I could never sleep well after that. And sixth and seventh year... After the war, they got worse. My mother was so distressed because she always woke up to me screaming. Can you imagine that, Potter? An adult, crying so loudly in his sleep that his mother had to come and wake him."

            "Hermione did that for me," Harry said. Malfoy looked up from the carpet and they stared at each other in silent sympathy. "I mean, after the war. She and Ron stayed here for a bit to keep me company after all the... all the trauma. I couldn't really be left alone for a while."

            "Were they bad?"

            Harry laughed hollowly. "To be honest... I can't decide which ones were worse. After the war, I’d wake up screaming to drown out all the noise of people dying all round me..."

            Malfoy nodded, as if he expected that answer.

            "But then, I always used to dream of Voldemort when we were still at Hogwarts." Harry paused here. He had no idea why he was telling this much to Malfoy, of all people, but it seemed right. "No one but the Order knew, but I had a connection to Voldemort's mind."

            Harry had expected Malfoy to be shocked, but the blond merely looked at him gravely, his lips a thin line.

            "I already knew that," Malfoy said, his voice hoarse. Harry couldn't contain his own surprise at the admission. "The Minister saw fit to inform me of your particular kind of... evidence... to my defense."

            "Kingsley. Right." Harry shook his head. He had specifically told Kingsley NOT to tell Malfoy of his role in his freedom apart from being a witness at the trials. Oh well. "I told him-"

            "Not to mention the Pensieve memories?"

            Harry cringed. No, he definitely didn't want Malfoy to know about that. Perhaps he should go and give the Minister a piece of his mind. "No, you weren't supposed to know that either." This conversation was not at all going well.

           

***

 

            Draco remembered that day at the Minister's Office, when he had been given his probationary release. Potter hadn't been yet under the _Solum Sanctuarii,_ and had made headlines by being the sole witness to defend him and his mother. He remembered the feeling of dread and cool acceptance that he and Narcissa had accustomed themselves to. They had not expected a fair trial at all. Suddenly, his domestic woes seemed inconsequential to the topic at hand.

            "What was in the memories?" he asked Potter. He fixed him with his trademark stare. "Why didn't you want to tell me?"

            Potter made a sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff. "Would you have wanted to be rescued by the Chosen One?" Draco's silent glare made Potter laugh for real. "Didn't think so."

            Draco ground his teeth. "I wouldn't have, then," he said slowly, carefully. "But now, I'd like to thank you directly. And now, I really would like to know what it was you saw, and why you thought it wise to even side with me."

            The tension was so palpable that Draco was sure they both held their breaths for too long.

            "Those dreams I told you about," Potter said suddenly, getting up from his chair and Summoning a bottle of Firewhiskey. "They were real. They were happening, even as I thought that I was having some sort of nightmare on steroids."

            Draco sat back in shock. Having nightmares of echoes was one thing. But having a nightmare and then finding out it was all real... he didn't think he could handle that. When Potter sent a full glass towards him, he gladly took it and had a generous gulp before staring at the Auror once again.

            "I saw him murder so many people," Potter continued as he sat back down, not looking at anything in particular. "It didn't matter to him whether they were Muggle, or his enemies, or his followers." Draco stiffened when he felt Potter's gaze on him. "I saw how he treated you. I saw the kind of things he made you do to torture you. I saw what his madness did to your family. I could almost understand how his insanity could have warped your father into the man he became. It was something I had to tell someone. After what you and your mother did to save me during the war... it was the right thing to do."

            "Well it's no wonder the Wizengamot would say nothing about why they allowed our release."

            "I couldn't have said all of that and expect them to believe me. After everything Skeeter wrote about me, I doubt they'd take my word for it."

            Draco couldn't help but let out an uncharacteristic guffaw. It was always ironic for him that Potter was the Savior of the entire Wizarding world, but it was still so easy for wizards to doubt his sanity.

            "I gave them the memories to make sure my statement was airtight," Potter continued. "Then I specifically told Kingsley not to tell you."

            Draco rolled his eyes. Only Potter would have the gall to refer to the Minister by his name in such a tone. "Well, I'm glad he did, because now I get to thank you for all of it."

            Potter bristled. "Please don't."

            Draco looked at him curiously. He had now spent enough time to know that Potter was the complete opposite of arrogance and attention-seeking. At the moment, he could observe how it made the Auror completely uncomfortable. He decided to go back to the topic they had eclipsed.

            "My nightmares went away gradually when I left for my Mastery," he said, his tone clarifying that the subject was being changed on purpose. "Astoria didn't have to deal with them ever, not like my mother had to."

            "Your mother is a strong woman," Potter said with a hint of awe. Draco acquiesced with a nod. "Hermione used her cleverness around my panic attacks, she didn't tell me till later that she'd gone through all the books she could about Muggle Psychology and helped me get through my PTSD without me really knowing it."

            "PTSD?"

            "Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder," Potter replied. "We all had it bad, but I think Hermione was able to treat mine better because she didn't make it seem like a debilitating disease for me. Didn't make it seem like I was mental after everything. Kind of eased me through it, her and Ron."

            Draco wondered if that could have helped him, too. He mentally noted to ask for Hermione's help, Malfoy Pride be damned.

            "Why did you mention your nightmares?" Potter suddenly asked, his voice laced with worry. "You keep going around the question. Why did you need to see me?"

            "Like I said, Potter, you are unfortunately the only living being to truly understand me. I had a moment of... weakness... and I... I needed someone who wouldn't judge me for being overwhelmed. I thought... of all people... you wouldn't judge me for anything."

            Draco didn't realize that he had his eyes closed while trying to think of the right words to say. Which was why he was surprised when he felt Potter's hand on his shoulder. He hadn't heard the man move, probably thanks to his Auror stealth skills.

            "Whatever it is, you'll get through it," Potter said with conviction, squeezing Draco's shoulder in a comforting way. "And I would never judge you, Malfoy. Not after everything we've been through. You deserve more than that."

            Draco could feel something like pinpricks behind his eyes, which felt suspiciously like tears. He held them back with all the control he could muster. He stood up and faced Potter squarely. The brunet dropped his arm from Draco's shoulder, but his gaze remained.

            "That's why I had to see you," Draco said in a low voice. He didn't feel the need to explain further. He knew he was right to assume that Potter would understand.

            Potter nodded. For a while they stood there, staring at each other. For some reason, it didn't seem awkward at all. Until Ginevra walked into the room and stared at him.

            "What the f- Malfoy, it's a surprise to see you here," she said, sidling up to Harry's side. The Auror didn't move.

            "I should probably go," Draco finally said. "Wouldn't want to take advantage of your hospitality, would I, Potter?"

            Potter seemed to be battling with a couple of inner demons, neither of which was close to winning, so it looked like he was fighting off the Imperius Curse.

            "Thanks again for the tea," he said, ignoring the fact that Ginevra was clearly looking at the glasses of Firewhiskey. "Much appreciated. Perhaps we should set more time for further discussions." He nodded imperiously, first at Ginevra, then at Potter, before disappearing out of the Floo.

            When he stumbled back into his own fire, he couldn't help but wince at the odd ending to such a pleasant night. And Draco knew there wasn't any reason, but he felt as if he and Potter had been caught doing something illegal. Which they weren't. So his feeling of guilt was unfounded, and it confused him until he finally fell asleep.

            The next day, Draco would be sure that he had had another nightmare, but for the life of him, would not be able to remember a single thing about it.

 

***

 

            "What was that about?" Ginny asked, her eyebrows high on her forehead as she stared at Malfoy's disappearance through the Floo.

            "Nothing, really," Harry said, shrugging, taking the used cups and glasses and Banishing them into the kitchen. "He just Firecalled out of the blue and said he'd wanted to talk."

            "About?" Ginny inquired, but Harry said nothing. He acted as though he hadn't heard the question. "Should I be concerned?"

            Ginny's voice was full of doubt and uncertainty, which made Harry feel guilty, which was stupid because there wasn't any reason for him to feel guilty.

            "No, Gin, it's nothing, I swear," he ensured her. "It was a bit of a surprise, actually, but I invited him over and we were able to catch up a bit."

            Harry knew that she was already questioning so many facts - first of which was why in the hell would Malfoy ever be in their sitting room close to midnight?

            "I didn't know you two were so close," Ginny said.

            "Neither did I," Harry answered, though quietly as if only to himself. He wondered the same thing in his head. What had prompted Malfoy to talk to him via Floo, on a whim? He hadn't exactly given a reason, but it had made sense to Harry at the moment. He didn't question why Malfoy needed him, but it did feel right. He himself was having a pretty shit day, but all of it had gone out the window when he found that he had to comfort the blond git somehow.

            In fact, Harry believed, they had both done each other a favor tonight, and given each other some much-needed peace of mind. How and why, precisely, were beyond him.

 

***

 

            When he was in bed that night, Harry found himself tossing and turning. Ginny, used to his nightmares, carefully moved him to a safer position and cast the usual set of Cushioning Charms before falling asleep again.

            Harry, meanwhile, was caught in an onslaught of visions and memories full of blood, pain and guilt. Then he found himself running down a familiar corridor and into a flooded bathroom, with mirrors all around. At the other end of the room, bent over an old lavatory, was a blond someone. Harry's instincts told him to draw his wand. The man in front of him turned around to face Harry, and morphed into a teenager. His face was stained with grime and tears, his lips beginning to form into words, possibly a curse. Harry's bones told him it was the Cruciatus.

            When Malfoy - of course it was Malfoy, Harry was familiar with this memory - finally looked at him and spoke, it caught Harry by surprise.

            "Kill me."

            Harry was shocked. He was sure this was a dream. He had lived and relieved this particular nightmare, even in waking dreams, it had never ended well. Always with blood and pain and guilt.

            "I'm not going to kill you," he heard himself say.

            "I'm sorry," Dream-Malfoy whispered, dropping his wand onto the flooded floor.

            This felt too surreal for Harry. "At this point in time, you're supposed to try the Cruciatus, and I'm supposed to accidentally almost-kill you." The fact had been repeated so much that Harry was used to the order of things, even in his sleep, apparently.

            "You can do that now," said Dream-Malfoy morosely. "I don't think I'll ever want to live through all this."

            Harry had no idea what to say. This was too unbelievable. "I don't want to."

            Dream-Malfoy held his gaze. "I always wanted to be best friends with you. I never thought we'd get to this point. I don't want to fight anymore."

            Of course, Harry knew that they were no longer fighting in reality. Then he saw that Dream-Malfoy had morphed once again, now appearing to be no older than eleven. When he looked down, Harry saw that he himself had somehow become skinny and scrawny once more. He felt his dream-self drop his wand as well. "I don't want to fight anymore, either."

            And Dream-Harry and Dream-Malfoy found themselves in an unlikely embrace that was full of forgiveness and acceptance, and Harry suddenly had an epiphany.

            In this world, he and Malfoy could be more than just enemies, or colleagues or acquaintances. They could be so much more for each other, if only they had let things be.

           

            The next morning, Harry awoke with a misplaced feeling in his gut. There was no memory of any nightmare, only of Malfoy's late night visit. There were no words for it, but he had a feeling deep down that Malfoy needed him in his life, and Harry needed him in his.

 

 

 


	18. New Horizons

 

**(Present, 2006)**

            Draco had never felt so insulted in his entire life. He had been kicked out of the delivery room and was just two seconds close from drawing his wand and cursing the damned Mediwizard, when his mother finally appeared and helped to pull him back to his senses.

            "Malfoys never lose their temper," she told him with an air of dignity.

            "I thought you didn't believe any of the Malfoy aphorisms that Father spouted."

            "I don't. In any case, those of the Noble House of Black do not make fools of themselves in public," Narcissa amended with a smirk. She hugged her son tightly. "How is she?"

            "If that idiot of a Mediwizard would tell me, I'd know by now," Draco spat venomously, glaring at the man who had nervously jogged away from them.

            "I'm sure she's alright, dear," Narcissa said, smoothing away Draco's hair from his pale face. "No need to worry now."

            "But Mother!" Draco cried, unable to sound level-headed in teh face of a medical crisis. "She's been in there for almost half an hour and I've not been allowed to see her! It's unbelievable!"

            Narcissa chuckled. "It's for magical reasons, love," she said soothingly. "The child's birth room cannot be tainted by magic other than Astoria's. The Healers help her through the process, but their spells have special nullifying properties to ensure that Astoria's is the strongest magical presence there."

            Draco thought back to Pansy's childbirth. He had been waiting outside then, but he had assumed that Oliver Wood had been in with her. Now that he thought about it, however, he remembered seeing him pacing to and fro in the same hallway but further from him. He also recalled Potter and Weasley's "horrible waiting" experiences, and a small knot of worry in his stomach eased a little.

            _If only someone at St. Mungo's had deigned to inform me, I wouldn't have lost my temper earlier_ , he thought acidly.

 

***

 

            It took two more hours before the Healers requested for Draco's presence in the delivery room.

            Narcissa waited patiently before the doors, motioning for her son to hurry up and enter before her. He had every right to be there first, as the father of the child, while she had the right to present her grandchild with his new name. Astoria's parents were already behind her, just as impatient to meet the newest heir to the Houses of Malfoy and Greengrass.

            When he was but a second away from entering, Draco suddenly turned around and grabbed his mother by the silky sleeve of her robe. She looked at him curiously, wondering at the uncharacteristic gesture. Noting that the Greengrasses were still out of earshot, Draco leaned closer to her, but she broke the silence first.

            "If you need something," Narcissa admonished, "I would appreciate you keeping my expensive clothing out of it."

            Draco hung his head in shame. He hadn't meant to grab her in such a childlike way, but his nerves had gotten the better of him. After all, it wasn't every day that he made this sort of decision. He steeled his resolve and stood his ground. "I was wondering..."

            "Yes?"

            He took a deep breath. "...if you would allow me a chance to at least suggest a possible name... for my son."

            Narcissa glanced in pure curiosity at him. Her eyes, which were usually half-lidded in the haughty manner of the wealthy, were suddenly wide as saucers as she regarded the odd request of her only son. "And why, may I ask, would you choose to break tradition?"

            Draco sighed inwardly. He had no idea either, but he did his best to justify it, as much to himself as to his mother. "I've just been thinking about it... I know that it goes against our traditions, but... I felt this... need... I can't explain it, Mother, but I... I want to be a part of his naming as well."

            He had expected his mother to react negatively to his blatant disregard for the customs of his House, so he was surprised when she radiated with pure happiness. When he looked confused at her expression, she laughed.

            "I've never really been one to stick to the rules, you know," she whispered conspiratorially, and Draco could even swear that she had winked at him. His breath caught at the sudden affection he felt for her, and he had to stop himself from hugging her in public.

            Unbecoming of a Malfoy and everything.

            "You are an amazing woman," he told her sincerely.

            She glowed at his praise. "I've always known," she replied with an air of amusement, before pushing her son forwards while keeping the rest of their private conversation out of earshot.

 

            When both families had gathered in the delivery room around Astoria, Draco couldnt help but stare in awe at the little bundle of life, moving around in Astoria's arms. His wife looked so tired and fragile, which was to be expected after just giving birth to her first child, but Draco noticed the emergence of the strength of her character- she obviously wanted and needed to rest, but was holding herself up throughout the naming ritual. He felt such a rush of admiration, once again reminding himself how lucky he was to have bumped into her at the bookstore.

            When Narcissa had finished chanting the first half of the spell, Draco felt the stirrings of magic around them converge on his newborn son. He couldn't stop staring with longing, but he knew that he couldn't hold him until after the Naming.

            "...before these two Families of Noble Blood do we Name our new Heir, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, to uphold the integrity of our lineage and..."

            Honestly, Draco could barely pay any attention to his Mother's enchantment because he was too ecstatic once she had said the name out loud. None of her other words mattered after that.

            It would be their little secret, his and Narcissa's. Perhaps he would tell Scorpius in the future, about how his father and grandmother had decided to rebel in their own little way and ensure, metaphorically speaking, that the youngest Malfoy would not be entangled with his Family's history from birth. That they wanted his name to be symbolic of a future unencumbered by useless traditions and impossible expectations. No one would know apart from Draco and Narcissa.

            Apart from Potter, that is. Draco had forgotten about that.

 

            "...and with the combined magic of thy Father and Mother shalt thou, Scorpius Hyperion, enter this Earth to live out thy life in..." Narcissa's voice was also full of excitement, but not as much as Draco's when he felt the tug from his magical core, which meant that the Naming ritual was almost over.

            Sure enough, when Narcissa ended the spell, Astoria met his eye and motioned for him to finally approach her. She stretched out an arm towards her husband, and he grasped her hand firmly and allowed her to pull him closer.

            "Finally," Astoria breathed out with a weak smile.

            Draco nodded dazedly. He made no move, not knowing what exactly to do next, until a Mediwitch transferred the bundled infant into his arms. As the weight settled, so did Draco's heart, and he felt his soul flutter in utmost happiness at the first real feel of Scorpius, his son, so close to himself.

            For the first time in his life, Draco felt so happy that he was sure he could produce a Patronus as bright as the stars he was named for.

 

***

 

            Though it felt like forever, the Naming had actually only taken a quarter of an hour, with the rest of the time spent caring for baby Scorpius.

            Draco and Astoria had demanded for a private ward, and were instantly granted the request. This guaranteed that their family was safe from the prying eyes of passersby. Of course, Astoria was sure that the birth would be published and highly talked about in the next few weeks, which was why Draco was insistent that they spend the first few days only with their immediate friends and family.

            Since they were in a private suite in St. Mungo's, visitors had to be approved by the family beforehand. A small group of Greengrass cousins had visited briefly, as did several of Astoria's socialite friends. Draco found this visit highly entertaining due to the fact that the ladies had had no idea what else to do with a real baby apart from coo at it from a distance.

            As for Draco's friends, they had been unable to make it. Pansy and Oliver were still in Africa for the next three days, while Blaise was brokering a major business merger in America and wouldn't be back for a month. Draco didn't take it against them, and he sat back in a stuffy armchair next to Astoria's bed with full intention of melting into it. The elder Greengrasses, as well as Narcissa, had gone an hour and a half ago, which left Draco and his wife the rest of the evening to themselves.

            It was to their immense surprise, therefore, when a nervous-looking mediwitch came in to announce the arrival of several visitors.

            "Are you expecting anyone tonight, darling?" Draco asked his wife.

            "No, Daphne told me that the ladies will only be able to visit again after tomorrow."

            Astoria's answer made Draco's eyebrow go so high that it threatened to disappear behind his forelock. He turned his gaze back to the woman by the door. "Who are the visitors? Are they part of the list previously approved by my mother?"

            If possible, the mediwitch looked even twitchier as she tried to meet the blonde's eyes. She mumbled a reply, but it was so indiscernible that Draco rolled his eyes and kept his verbal insults to himself, to his wife's amusement.

            "You test our patience," Astoria said easily, with a hint of a threat. "Who are they?"

            At her question, a head of messy black hair appeared in the doorway. There was no mistaking that head of messy black hair.

            "Potter?!"

            "Er - may we come in?"

            "We?! Who-" Before Draco could finish his outraged question, in stumbled the rest of the Golden Trio, looking slightly embarrassed.

            But their grins could not outshine the one on Potter's face, Draco was sure - he looked absolutely pleased with himself. The Auror gleefully stepped towards Astoria, bowed, and kissed her hand.

            "Lady Malfoy," he greeted formally, before presenting her with a bouquet that he had been hiding behind his back. "May you accept our congratulations on this very auspicious day of your son's birth."

            Astoria laughed, her voice tinkling like a bell at the theatrics of the Chosen One. "My dear Mister Potter, how gallant of you to grace our family with your presence," she answered with a bit of a smirk.

            The odd exchange brought Draco out of his mental stupor. " _What the devil are you doing here?!_ "

            His sharp tone was broken by the sudden and unexpected hug from Hermione.

            "Oh, Draco!" she all but squealed into his ear. "We knew that it was going to happen around this week, but we didn't find out until today, when Harry showed us your letter! Congratulations!"

            Amidst the excitement of the Muggleborn in his arms, Draco felt a hand clap his back, and he turned slightly until he could see Weasley with a smug look on his face.

            "Congratulations, mate!" he said with a lopsided grin. "Welcome to the club!"

            "You have a club?" Astoria asked with amusement. "Oh darling," she jokingly admonished Draco, "you should have told me you were expecting your friends to be here! They weren't even on our list!"

            "No, they weren't," Draco said, eyes narrowing and zeroing in to Potter's guilty gaze. Hermione released him from her hug and he crossed his arms in front of himself, still staring accusingly at the man who always made his blood boil. "How did you even manage to make it to our door when we had our private ward closed off to anyone?"

            "Errr...that'd be my fault," said Potter, shifting uneasily on his feet under the blonde's glare. "We... I... just did a bit of convincing for the mediwitch to let me in, said you were a good friend and that you wouldn't mind the surprise visit."

            Draco couldn't help but smirk. "Oh, I'll bet the entire staff couldn't resist waiting hand and foot on their bloody savior, could they?"

            "Oh, get that wand out of your arse for a second, mate," Weasley said. "We heard your news, we wanted to visit, and we're here. Now can we properly celebrate?" He gave another clap on Draco's back until there was a ghost of a smile on the man's lips.

            "Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint my family by being a terrible host." Draco motioned towards where Astoria lay and indicated the baby in her arms. "Everyone, I am proud to present my first born son, Scorpius."

 

***

 

            All in all, Harry thought that the day had gone pretty well, considering that he and his friends had an abysmal history when it came to their plans actually coming to fruition. While Hermione and Ron had talked for almost an hour to Astoria about their anecdotes and warnings on child rearing, Harry found himself being pulled towards a corner by an irritable blond.

            "You wanted to talk?" he asked somewhat dumbly, not exactly sure how to react to Malfoy's somewhat childish behavior.

            "Why did you really come here, Potter?"

The question was so unexpected that Harry didn't exactly know what to say. "Malfoy," he said slowly, making sure that their gaze remained unbroken, "Hermione, Ron and I wanted to visit and congratulate you and Astoria."

            Malfoy's expression changed into that of surprise.

            "What?" Harry asked, huffing. "You didn't think we were being sincere about our reasons? I don't know if I should be offended, or..."

            "I apologize," Malfoy countered immediately, cheeks slightly pink. "To be honest, your appearance was not at all expected, and this led to quite a shock."

            "Well, it _was_ meant to be a surprise," Harry said. "We would've gone here earlier, actually, but for the fact that we had to drop off the kids at the Burrow first. Ginny would have come with us but she - er - decided to stay with Arthur and Molly. To help supervise."

            A suspicious look flitted onto Malfoy face, but it passed by so quickly that Harry was sure he'd only imagined it. Instead, the new father seemed to change his tactics. "Did Pansy put you up to this? Or perhaps Blaise?" Malfoy demanded.

            Harry was confused. "No, and no," he answered smoothly. "Thought I was aware that both of them are currently abroad, I would have come by here regardless of their presence or not. We do want to be here for you, I don't know why you can't get your head around the fact."

            "I-" Malfoy had obviously run out of vocabulary.

            "Did you really not think we would at least contact you about this?" Harry decided to ask bluntly. He wanted to know what went on in Malfoy's Slytherin mind that a surprise call from friends left him so ruffled.

            The man merely cocked his head to the side as if trying to decide how to carefully say what was already on the tip of his tongue. Harry waited patiently, but when Malfoy said nothing, he decided to confront the awkward issue.

            "We're your friends now, Malfoy," he said softly, and he was sure that both his best friends echoed the sentiment wholeheartedly that he could speak for them. "Friends tend to be supportive of each other especially in times of great emotional upheaval or life changing events. Having your first kid sort of qualified for that."

            "Perhaps I wasn't expecting you all to... you know... really consider..."

            "We're Gryffindors, mate!" Harry exclaimed with pride. "Nothing half-arsed, all brute force," he added with a wink. "You won't get rid of us that easily."

            This time, Harry saw the first comfortable smile on Malfoy's face, the kind that he remembered seeing that one night at Grimmauld, when the two of them had unwittingly shared some very personal information to each other. Seeing it again was quite endearing, and it warmed Harry right up.

            "Thank you," Malfoy said suddenly and very quietly. "Between you and me, Pureblood friendships are less shocking and more of a steadfast alliance. Neither Astoria nor I are quite accustomed to being attacked by a gang of Gryffindors like this, most notably within our private wards. Though we truly appreciate this... grand gesture."

            Harry noted the mingling of a serious tone under a joking one. "Yeah, well, all three of us are already bona fide parents," he told Malfoy, shrugging. "It's like a huge part of our instinct is to smother new parents and welcome them into the fold as embarrassingly as possible."

            "Draco! Will you come over here, to where your son actually is?"

            Hermione's exuberant cry for attention from across the room immediately took away Draco's presence, which left Harry a few moments to himself.

            He had never thought Malfoy's life to be lacking in any way, and lonely wasn't exactly the word to use on him. He had already seen the blond mingling with his best friends, and had observed that they were indeed close, though perhaps more formally than he, Ron and Hermione acted amongst each other

            Perhaps the pureblood wizarding culture had really affected the man's expectations in life. Being reclusive yet celebrated socialites, he and Astoria no doubt had grown up within the similar bubble that was the exact opposite of the environment that Harry and his friends were used to. It was only now that he realized to what extent the Weasleys were removed from 'pure' wizarding society, if their ways were more similar to Harry's and Hermione's, both of whom were raised by Muggles.

            Harry sighed. The notions of blood purity and clashing cultures had never really bothered him so much. In fact, his private musings had only emerged after his reluctant association with Malfoy had begun. Having grown up from his rather limited perspective in the magical community, Harry was only now seeing the fundamental differences between traditional and modern, pureblood and otherwise.

            He couldn't help it, but he had the innate desire to delve more into the mystery that was Draco Malfoy, and to see the world in the Slytherin's perspective.

 

***

 

            The week following Scorpius' birth found several changes in the Weasley and Potter households, or at least Harry thought so. Hermione and Ron seemed to have rediscovered something in their relationship and were now much more involved in tending to Rose and Hugo. Harry himself noticed that Ginny seemed to be putting more pressure on herself to play the part of mother to James. That part had affected him strangely, if he were being honest, and after a couple of day thinking about it, realized that it was because he didn't want Ginny keeping his hopes up until the other shoe dropped.

            Which happened just a few weeks after, in the midst of a particularly chilly March.

            He had been taking care of a follow-up case in his study that time, so he was sufficiently distracted from Ginny and James. Despite the Eilert case being closed, there were several more related cases that needed to be looked into. While this wasn't the responsibility of the MMI, Auror Stone of the DMLE had personally asked Harry's department to help them create mind maps for the victims of the Eilert operation. Since the now-illegal trade and distribution of Persephone's Poison was reported to the public, previously unsolved cases were now cropping up. The most common report involved some witch or wizard who made official reports to the Aurors that a friend or relative might have been a victim of the Eilert potion. Since more than two thirds of these complaints were proven to be people who merely couldn't get over someone getting married to a person they didn't approve, the Aurors needed updated profiles from Harry's team so that they could instantly distinguish whether the accused persons fit the mind map of a victim under Persephone's Poison.

            After a rather slow morning of parchment work, Harry finally gave it a rest and stretched his arms up as if he were a cat. Wondering if lunch that day would be courtesy of him or Kreacher, he wandered over to the kitchen. On the way, however, he spotted Ginny huddled in front of the fire.

            Harry was immediately concerned, if he were to judge by the vacant stare and the restlessness of her hands.

            "Gin?" he asked softly, edging closer until he was by her side in front of the hearth. "What's up?"

            The redhead warily turned to him, giving him a weak smile. Her freckles stood out even more today, because her skin was pale and clammy. "Hey," she said. "So I've got news."

            Harry perked up a bit. Perhaps he was overthinking things again, but he couldn't deny the feeling of foreboding he had in his gut. "Hm?" he asked noncommittally, hoping she would get to the point.

            She didn't.

            "Odair just Firecalled," she said slowly, her voice like heavy syrup. Her eyes kept darting back and forth between Harry and the fire as if she couldn't stand to look long enough at either.

            In a way, Harry already knew what was coming next, and he didn't know if it was a good thing that he was calmly prepared for it.

            Ginny tried to look at him beseechingly. "They think being away for close to six months is enough time..." her words trailed off as if she were afraid of how the rest of the sentence would affect Harry. Instead, she bit her lip nervously.

            "You're not yourself here, you know."

            Brown eyes met green in a whirl of confusion, but Harry went on, his voice still calm and collected.

            "We know each other so well, Gin," he said, "and I've come to realize that you're really happiest when you're up in the air and chasing a Quaffle."

            Ginny remained silent, so he went on as if to make the conversation much easier for her.

            "I'm not saying you're not happy here, of course, and Merlin knows James loves having you around, but... I don't like seeing you turn into a shadow of yourself. It doesn't feel right."

            There, he said it. It had been gnawing in the back of his mind, but he had belatedly realized that Ginny had been happier when she was away at training, coming home to Harry with all sorts of stories and gossip about the Quidditch league. He hadn't really had to put words to the thoughts though, not until now that Ginny had brought up her manager's wishes again after so many months.

            "Harry..." she whispered, her breaths shallow. "It's not that I don't love being here, with you and James-"

            Harry sighed, not bothering to hide how much heavier he felt now. "Like I said before, I do love you and I want you to be happy. I see you with James and I know that you mean it, and you do like being around him but... I don't think you're truly happy unless you're competing."

            Tears were now streaming down Ginny's face, and she turned towards Harry and hid her face in his chest. He knew she was still biting her lip so thoroughly.

            "I don't like being away from you," she all but sobbed into his shirt.

            Harry let out a shaky breath. "Neither do I."

           

***

 

            Draco wasn't expecting any call, but he couldn't say he was surprised by Potter's head appearing in his fire. It was fast becoming a habit for them to invade each other's privacy at around eleven on the oddest of nights.

            "Evening, Potter," he greeted casually. "Auror business?"

            The brunet seemed to blush, but the green flames made it hard to be sure. "Er, you can say this is more of a personal call," he replied. "I just... thought..."

            It didn't take much for Draco to note the somber expression on Potter's face, or the sad droop of his smile, or the steely sharpness in his green eyes. "Come through," he said without hesitation.

            When the wizard stepped into his sitting room, Draco immediately sent him a glass of amber liquid.

            Potter sniffed at it, then looked quizzically at Draco. "This is Muggle whiskey," he said, slightly dubiously.

            Draco laughed, brandishing his own glass. "I find that non-magic whiskey sometimes burns more on the way down than Firewhiskey, which is saying something. Now, what's wrong?"

            He didn't have to ask why Potter was here. Just as he had gone to him in his time of need, he knew Potter needed his company right now.

            "Six weeks."

            "Of what?"

            Potter took a huge gulp before speaking again. "Ginny's going away for another six weeks. Montreal."

            Draco realized that this was the first time that Potter had really ever talked about his fiancée. He knew that Ginevra had been away for just as long in Asia, around the time when they were busy with the MMI case. "And you hate it?" he guessed. "That she's leaving?"

            "I was the one who told her to go."

            After several moments of silence (and much refilling of whiskey), Draco finally decided to take matters into his own hands.

            "Look at you, Potter," he said, but not unkindly. "You're actually wallowing on my couch. I'd expected you to handle matters much better than this."

            As expected, he got a reaction from the wizard, who merely glared at him. "Shove off, Malfoy."

            "There we go," Draco said easily, to Potter's confused face. "I was merely checking if the old you was still alive in there somewhere. You were making a good impression of a flobberworm that I feared I had lost you for a moment. Don't disappoint me, Potter."

            When a corner of Potter's lip twitched, Draco knew that he was on the right track. "Now, how about you start acting like a real Gryffindor, and be all brash and loud and impulsive while I play a quiet and understanding Hufflepuff and listen to all your woes?"

            Potter snorted. "You can't possibly pretend to be a Hufflepuff, it just goes against the very fibre of your being," he said, his voice somewhat more playful now. "And you're right, I shouldn't mope around like that. I don't even know what I'm doing here."

            Draco couldn't help but laugh. "I asked the same thing before."

            "Thank you," Potter offered suddenly.

            "For what?"

            The Auror smiled shyly. "For letting me through. For this," he said, gesturing between the two of them.

            "That's what friends are for, aren't they?" Draco replied teasingly. "Though in our case, I think bringing up the old rivalry seems to do wonders, doesn't it?"

            Potter smiled. "It does."

            Draco leaned back. "Well, now that you're feeling at home in my exquisitely opulent couch, why don't we move the real conversation along? And don't even bother filtering. Six years of stalking you and I can still read you like an open book."

 

***

 

            Harry laughed and accepted another glass of whiskey.

            The thought of holding back wasn't even an option. For the rest of the night, he allowed himself to lay everything out to his old enemy.

            And it felt good.

           

 

           

           

        


	19. Compare and Contrast

**(Present, 2006)**

          The image of Gryffindor's Golden Boy cramped into a richly upholstered yet unforgiving loveseat was pathetic enough for Draco to call out for an elf to Apparate Potter into one of the guest rooms on his side of the Manor. When the man blinked out from vision, surely to reappear in a much more comfortable bed, Draco allowed himself to collapse onto one of the lounges.

          It was close to three in the morning, and he didn't want to interrupt Astoria's much-needed beauty sleep. With the round-the-clock attention from the nursing house-elves that Narcissa had arranged, he and his wife could enjoy more time for rest and relaxation, and he knew that they needed to be refreshed come morning.

          He would have gone to bed already, but for the whirl of disorganized thoughts now going through his head at an alarmingly distracting manner. Once again, his new "friend" had unwittingly succeeded at making rethink everything he used to believe.

          Throughout their cool acquaintance for the first few years after the war, there was no reason whatsoever for either of them to stay updated about their respective relationships. Sure, Draco and Astoria had invited the Chosen couple to their wedding, but that was more for their own benefit and publicity. With the release of Potter's _Solum Sanctuarii_ ward around his relationship with Ginevra, Astoria had joined the gossip bandwagon while Draco remained uninterested in such matters - he did not see any use or advantage - and so he did not care.

          Even during their somewhat reluctant cooperation for the Eilert case, Potter had been careful to avoid any mention of his personal relationship except in strictly factual or objective comments. For this reason, Draco had begun to mentally ignore the presence (or existence) of the youngest Weasel, which, now that he thought about it, was odd, considering that she was the mother of the child whose father he spent much time with for several months.

          Perhaps it was part of the _Solum Sanctuarii_ that Draco, smart as he was and as Slytherin as one could go, didn't see the true colors of Potter's odd situation until that night.

          And what a night it was. Draco sighed heavily as he attempted to reorganize his new facts about the Chosen One.

          Potter had spent half of their impromptu meeting in pensive silence, and the other half sharing his thoughts about him and his - well, now that Draco realized, Potter had NEVER even mentioned the words 'girlfriend', 'fiancée' or 'betrothed' in any conversation that he could recall. Odd.

          On that strange note, Draco put together his scattered impressions and tried to build a clearer picture of what this night's conversation was all about, because he really hadn't seen it coming.

          After the Auror's first pronouncement that Ginevra was leaving, Draco had expected him to explode in anger, or retaliate with raging words and insults. He was disappointed. Instead, he and Potter might have just been talking about the weather or the latest Quidditch scores. That was how Potter talked about his relationship problem - calm, cool and casual.

          Which, to Draco, meant that there was a lot more that was going on beneath the surface. What concerned him, however, was not the fact that there were problems to uncover, but the realization that he wanted to make Potter feel better about it somehow.

_I was the one who told her to go,_ Potter had said easily _. I could see how she was starting to resent being home._ Potter's comments had been calm to begin with, before escalating to passive-aggressive self-doubt.

          _What have I been doing wrong, Malfoy?_ the brunet had repeatedly asked in frustration. _Am I such a freak that I can't even have a normal relationship? Am I so unwanted that the mother of my child won't even marry me in a heartbeat?_

Truth be told, Draco was actually doing his best to rile up his ex-nemesis again to try and get him out of his passive-aggression, but it was to no avail. Hearing such self-deprecation from someone he had once hated was more painful and pathetic than he had expected. And he hated it, hated hearing such weakness from someone he had once resented and admired at the same time.

          Draco tried to break down the situation from a pureblood's point of view, in hopes of determining if the problem was rooted in a difference in cultural traditions, but he came up with nil. He and Astoria had spent much time away from each other during their long engagement, but they hadn't had a child during that. They had also had a clear list of expectations and limitations on their contract, which had so far ensured that they were both contented.

          Potter, on the other hand, had gone the non-traditional route, not having a betrothal contract before the engagement. When Draco had inquired about it, he was rewarded with a confused and blank stare.

          _We had plans, Malfoy_ , the Auror defended. _No need for that stupid contract business shit you purebloods seem to favor. We knew what we were getting into. It was all laid out! We were going to do everything all proper, and we were going to get married, and she was going to be the greatest Quidditch player ever, and I would save the world as an Auror, and we would go on to raise our five children in our nice little house in the countryside..._

          Draco had politely pointed out that most of those things were already accomplished, but he was surprised when Potter had deflated and sunk even lower into his chair, gulping down more drink and becoming slightly slurred in speech.

          _Not this way,_ the brunet had said, again and again. Draco couldn't make sense of it. _It was supposed to be different, Malfoy. We were supposed to be happy. We were happy, weren't we? I did everything I could, I know she did too. I thought we were so happy, but why doesn't it seem like it?_

          That was when the endless stream of questions just kept going, and Draco knew that he could do nothing to allay these intimate thoughts - the best he could do at this point was to keep them to himself.

_Why the fuck can she stay away from me, from her own son? And why the fuck am I okay with it?_

_Why were Ron and Hermione able to fix up their shit when they were having such a horrible time together in the first place?_

_Why doesn't it seem like we're getting anywhere?_

_Why do I feel nothing for the loss?_

_Why don't we need each other around?_

_Why don't we feel the need to be with each other all the time?_

_Why am I happy here, with you, so much more than the time I last spent with her?_

_Why do I always end up alone?_

_I don't want to be alone, I don't want to be alone. I want to be happy. I don't want to be alone._

"You aren't alone," Draco had reminded him, perhaps with a little more force than he had intended, but he needed to put the point across. He himself was feeling the familiar buzz after too much drink, and his guest had looked just about to collapse in front of him. "Let it all out tonight, Potter, and you'll be better tomorrow," Draco had said. "You won't be alone."

          And then Potter had had the decency to smile at him, emerald eyes blurred with unnoticed tears, and he'd fallen haphazardly into the dreamless sleep that Draco had sincerely wished him after such a stressful night.

 

***

 

          Harry cracked one eye open in the bright sunlight and groaned. He sort of had an idea where he was, but a part of him was now burning in equal parts of embarrassment and guilt.

          Oddly enough, he felt no regret.

          Stretching his arms above his head, he was suddenly disoriented. Hadn't he fallen asleep in that stiff and stuffy chair? But he was currently laid out on luxurious silk sheets, on a regal four poster, in a room that was no less elegant. To his left, the full length windows had their drapes opened, which explained the sun in his eye and his reason for waking.

          He sat up and blinked, memories of last night coming back to him. "Oh, Merlin," he swore aloud. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd divulged to Malfoy. Malfoy of all people in the magical universe!

          As he let out another groan and smacked himself on the side of the head, a cracking sound announced the arrival of a house elf.

          "Good morning, Mister Potter, sir, if Mister Potter would please stops hitting himself," the elf squeaked. "Master Draco has told Dilly to attend to you after you wakes up, sir. What breakfast would sir like to have?"

          "Would it be possible to ask you to kill me now?"

          The elf blinked at him.

          "I don't think house elves are meant to understand rhetoric questions or sarcasm," a voice drawled from the doorway. "Dilly, thank you for telling me he was awake. Please prepare the usual breakfast in the smaller dining room for the both of us." The house elf nodded, bowed, and popped away, leaving the two men to stare at each other.

          Harry fell back on the bed with a growl and pulled the covers up childishly over his head.

          "Not a morning person?" Malfoy inquired, his voice closer.

          "Only when I wake up in your house," was the muffled reply from under the sheets.

          To Harry's surprise, Malfoy actually laughed. He finally decided to pull down the covers to face his host as courageously as he could.

          "I know the feeling, Potter," the blond said with a smirk. "If you'll recall, I woke up at your place once before under the same circumstances. Perhaps it's high time that I returned the favor."

          "Sorry," Harry apologized automatically, face turning a deep red. "I didn't mean to barge in last night, like that..."

          "I did invite you over," Malfoy reminded him. "I only hope to Merlin that you're not secretly a vampire as well."

          Harry winced at the reminder. "Er... share a lot of secrets last night, did I?" he asked nervously.

          Malfoy looked at him with a curious expression on his face, then nodded. "You could say that. Also, I actually put in a joke in there, and you seem to have missed it. I never knew Gryffindors were this slow on the uptake in the morning..."

          "Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry said, not unkindly. "And no, I'm not a vampire, though you shouldn't have readily opened up your home to me, you know. Tsk tsk, you know it's basic personal security," he added, this time with a little smirk of his own.

          The slightly sparring tone seemed to have encouraged the blond more, since he actually smiled. "Good to know," Malfoy said before turning on his heel and walking towards the door. Right before he stepped out, he turned back to Harry.

          "You look like shit. My house elves dress better than that, and they have no clothes. Go freshen up before you join me for breakfast. Robes are in the left hand side of the closet."

          Harry couldn't help but groan again, and throw his arms upwards in defeat. "This, Harry," he told himself, _"this_ is what you get for fraternizing with a Malfoy and ending up in his house pissed beyond measure in your moment of weakness."

          As he forced himself to do the zombie walk towards the en suite bathroom, he sighed in resignation and did his best to groom himself for a meal with the vain, pretentious blonde prat who had so willingly welcomed him in his time of need.

 

***

 

          Harry had to admit that breakfast wasn't nearly as awkward as he had expected it to be. Granted, it was only him and Malfoy dining together, so he felt no need to put up an impression as he would have had to with the other two Malfoys.

          In any case, starting the morning with an exchange of verbal abuse was fast becoming a comfort blanket for the two of them. Now halfway through their full English and after much biting banter, Harry felt much more at ease with Malfoy.

          "You know," he heard himself say out of nowhere, "Kreacher keeps burning his beans, so I have to stock my kitchen with the canned sort. This is really good."

          Malfoy's lip curled up in amusement. "The Malfoy elves are fully equipped to provide any and every request, no matter how unique or distinguished one's palette is."

          Harry thought about that. "So, if one were really a vampire...?"

          "Then they would find a way to provide for that specific diet," Malfoy replied smoothly, before cocking an eyebrow up at his guest.

          "No, I'm not a vampire," Harry said laughing, earning another warm smile from the blond. "You're providing me with an appropriate diet, so no worries about being a terrible host or whatnot."

          "I am to please," said Malfoy, which made Harry laugh even more.

          "Look at where we are now, Malfoy," he said with amusement. "Entertaining each other and crossing over one another's hearths at odd hours on odd nights..."

          "I bet Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor are positively rolling in their graves."

          "Or perhaps celebrating?" Harry offered. "Maybe they've realized their long-standing feud was stupid. I mean, here we are becoming proper mates and everything."

          Malfoy smirked. "Proper mates," he repeated with a bit of a laugh. "My father'd kill me if he knew."

          Harry looked curiously at his host. He didn't want to steer the conversation into dangerous waters this early in the day, and he was having fun. He was actually having a good time for once without having to try.

          "No worries, your dad would probably kill me, too, so at least we'd still be proper mates in the afterlife, probably have a nice conversation while waiting for the train to come."

          "The train?" Malfoy asked in confusion.

          "Oh," Harry exclaimed, "sorry, I'm not sure if we'd talked about this before, you see, since we're mostly piss-drunk. I meant... er... When I died, the afterlife looked pretty much like King's Cross Station, and Dumbledore told me that moving on might have involved taking a train from there. So I was kind of making a casual joke about, you know, you and me having a laugh while waiting for the train."

          Malfoy seemed at a loss for words. "King's Cross... Afterlife… You _died?_!"

          Harry couldn't help it, he let out a little laugh. "Yes, I did. Not sure for how long, but when I came back, your mum was checking to see if I was alive, and she lied to Voldemort to get to you."

          This time, Malfoy nodded and looked thoughtful. Harry knew that this part of the story was at least familiar to the blond, so he didn't offer any more details.

          "I don't think I've really thought much about... that night..." Malfoy stammered uncharacteristically. Then he seemed to collect himself. "You're right, I can see you and me having a good laugh at my father after he murders us both in the name of family honor. It'll be like Hogwarts Express all over, except we'd be friends. How promising!"

          "That's why I'm comfortable talking like this with you," Harry said lightly. "If I had these conversations with anyone else, it'd be so different. At least I can talk with you properly."

          Now it was Malfoy's turn to laugh. "Seeking comfort from a sworn enemy," he pointed out. "Tsk tsk, you know it's basic personal security," he teased, a grin on his face.

          Harry snorted. "Don't go preaching to me what I've just taught you," he said. "Anyway, you know what I mean."

          Malfoy nodded in understanding.

          Harry took the time to take another bite before speaking again. "So, how's little Scorp?"

          "Scorp?!" Malfoy cried out in horror. "You've met my son once and you've already given him a horrible nickname!"

          "It's a mouthful!" Harry whined childishly. "So, how's Scorp doing?"

          Malfoy rolled his eyes at the brunet. "He's doing fine."

          "I noticed the name, you know."

          Malfoy looked him straight in the eye.

          Harry positively beamed at him. "How's it feel to actually be the one to name your first born?"

          It took a while for the blonde to gather his thoughts, but when he did, he gave a bright smile and Harry felt the glow from his host. "It was absolutely brilliant!" Malfoy all but exclaimed. "I blame YOU, by the way, for poisoning my thoughts. I was lucky enough that my mother is apparently a rebel and allowed our little secret to happen behind everyone else's backs."

          "I'm glad you got what you wanted, and I'm glad that you were able to experience it," Harry said seriously. "When you'd introduced him the first time, I knew how much of a big deal it was for him to have that name after you'd mentioned it to me. I'm really happy for you."

          Malfoy shook his head, which confused Harry. "Thank you, Potter," he said, still all smiles. "It's so odd that only three people know of this 'scandalous rebellion', and you're one of them."

          "I'm honored," Harry grinned. "I shall keep this scandalous and rebellious secret to my grave."

          Malfoy scoffed. "So dramatic," he admonished. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, Scorpius is doing very well, we have the nurse elves on him all day and night. Merlin knows Astoria needs to be away with her friends after being trapped here for so long."

          Harry dropped his drink in surprise. "Astoria's away?"

          "Of course. We had to wait for the Healers to give her the all-clear, but yes, she must attend an event at Belgium. I'm unable to accompany her because I've got several business meetings here. Whatever is the matter, Potter?"

          Harry had been gaping at Malfoy. "But - but your baby! How are you taking care of him?"

          Malfoy looked confused. "Nurse elves?"

          "What?!" Harry felt like he wanted to explode with all the questions now pounding in his head. "Don't you want to spend quality time with him? Don't you want to just hold him and nurse him and bundle him in your arms and have him with you all day and night?!"

          "That's... is that what you plebeians do?" he asked, though without venom. "Purebloods have much more to worry about, and child rearing is only one of the many responsibilities."

          "So... nurse elves?"

          Malfoy nodded. "Dilly was one of my nurse elves," he pointed out. "My childhood was what you'd expect of a typical pureblood, you know. I lacked nothing and wanted for naught. I was given and provided with everything. Though, between you and me, my mother the rebel sought to spoil me in her own ways. It.." Draco frowned a bit. "It always made my father a bit angry at her, I guess."

          Harry noticed that Malfoy seemed to have a lot on his mind, though he felt like he knew why. "Did your mother want to be more hand-on with your, what was your term, child rearing?"

          "Yes, I believe so," Malfoy answered slowly. "Come to think of it, they did fight an awful lot whenever Mother did something nice for me..."

          "I bet she wanted to be much closer to you while you were growing up," Harry suggested. "Do you want the same for Scorpius?"

          Malfoy looked up when he heard his son's name. "Scorpius? I want the very best for him! I don't want to be... be like..."

          Harry thought well about his next choice of words. "You know, there won't be anything wrong with you being more in touch with your child," he said softly. "I'm sure your mother would agree, given your own childhood. I'm not telling you to disregard your own traditions, but maybe listen to your own instincts for a change, you know?"

          Malfoy remained silent for a while before looking at Harry. "I've never really looked back at my childhood with any purpose. Now, I have this urge to..."

          "Just go and talk with your mum," Harry said gently. "You're absolutely lucky that you've got her to talk about your own childhood," he said with a sad smile. "I'm sure she would just love to tell you all sorts of embarrassing stories of your spoiled little arse."

          Malfoy laughed, and Harry was grateful that he was able to slightly defuse the tension. "Thanks, Potter," the blond said. "Now if any of this gets out of the Manor..."

          Harry rolled his eyes. "You keep my secrets, I keep yours," he said, eyes twinkling. "The ultimate Potter and Malfoy conspiracy, and no one would be the wiser."

          Malfoy sniggered. "Baby steps, Potter," he said. "We can worry about taking over the world some other time."

          "You take care of that," Harry said. "I'll just stay home, thanks."

          Malfoy laughed.

          "Speaking of which," Harry continued, straightening up. "I should probably go."

          Malfoy cocked his head to one side. "Alright. You're… er... you're good?"

          Harry smiled somewhat shyly. "Never better," he said.

          Malfoy took the time to walk his guest to the nearest Floo, and patiently waited for Harry to step in and throw Floo powder into the flames.

          "Thanks, Malfoy," the Auror said.

          "I aim to please," was the reply.

          Harry guffawed and shook his head, before spinning out and landing in his own hearth, feeling much better than he had in a long time.

          And oddly, he still felt no regret.

         

***

 

          Draco sought out his mother and found her once again watering her own plants. "Good morning," he greeted her.

          She turned around gracefully and greeted him with a brilliant smile that had become a mainstay on her since she became Lady Black. "Quite late for such a greeting, isn't it?" she said, amused. "How was breakfast with Mr. Potter?"

          Draco smiled, shaking his head. Of course his mother would be aware of everything going on in the Manor. "He's already gone, has to look after his... responsibilities," he said, the _Solum Sanctuarii_ filling in his words at the end. "Speaking of...may we talk privately, Mother?"

          Narcissa looked curiously at her son. "Of course, dear, but whatever would you wish to discuss with your old mother?"

          "Can you..." Since when did Draco ever run out of words to say?! "Can you tell me about... about my childhood?"

          Narcissa's smile warmed even more, and she eagerly put down her watering can and pulled her son out of the room and towards her wing.

          "Does this have anything to do with something you and Mr. Potter talked about today?" she inquired. Draco nodded.

          "Well," she said, imperiously waving him over to enter her private sitting room. "Why don't you settle yourself comfortably, as this happens to be one of my favorite topics to talk about."

          Draco shook his head in laughter. "You flatterer, you!" he accused her.

          She merely laughed lightly. "It's true, my love, people could never shut me up whenever I started to talk about you," she said. "Now, where would you like me to begin?"

          Draco leant further into the armchair he had chosen, and thought about what he wanted to know most. He felt so lost, since Potter had once again given him too much to think about (the prat!) but everything he had said about raising children had struck a chord in Draco's heart.

          "Tell me everything, Mother."

         


	20. Coming to Conclusions

**(Present, 2006)**

          "We know why we're here."

          Harry looked up uncertainly at his best mate's scrutinizing eyes, searching for some sort of judgment from the redhead's expression. He found none.

          "Stop it, Harry," Hermione groaned. "No, we won't judge you or think any less of you for telling us what we think you want to tell us."

          Harry rested his forehead on one of his hands, hiding his eyes. He felt so tired these past few weeks. "So you only think you know what I called you two here for?"

          Ron shrugged. "My sister only just sent us an owl yesterday and told us she's been away for a week already. We figured it had something to do with that..."

          Hermione took hold of Harry's free hand and gave it a squeeze. "We're here for you, Harry. Regardless of whether we agree or disagree on anything, we're always going to be here to support you, especially when you need it the most."

          Harry sighed and leaned back. He had thought that having this conversation in the dining room might help, but he thought all of them needed the warmth and comfort offered by the sitting room.

          "Maybe we should stay by the fire," he suggested, hauling his own arse up and leading the way. His two friends eyed him with concern, but followed nonetheless. They'd always had their productive talks by the Gryffindor common room fire, so this was like going back to a time when they huddled by the hearth to concoct their secret plans.

          It didn't help that the dining room had reminded Harry too much of 'that fight' in the tent, when their trio had suffered a major drawback and Ron had walked out in the middle of their Horcrux hunt. _Nope, no divulging controversial family issues over the dining table ever again,_ Harry promised.

          When Kreacher had served them all some tea and cookies, Ron cleared his throat loudly and sat up a bit straighter.

          Harry sighed. "Look, I don't want to have either of you feel like you need to take sides, but.. I just wanted to talk to you first. I haven't even thought much about... everything that's happened."

          Hermione looked about to cry. "Did you and Ginny have a row?" she asked in a gentle voice.

          Harry shook his head. "No. Odair called, said she'd been away for long enough."

          Ron's eyebrows furrowed a bit, but he didn't say anything yet. Hermione looked confused. "Did you guys argue about her having to go away, then?"

          "No, I was the one who told her to go ahead and leave for Montreal."

          Hermione sputtered, while Ron's eyes widened somewhat comically. "You let her go?! Just like that?" he exclaimed.

          Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She hasn't been herself lately, both of you must have seen that. I don't think she hated it here, or hated having to run around the house and take care of me and James, but you can't deny that she wasn't feeling... right."

          Ron was scowling. "How could you let her leave her responsibilities like that? You're too lenient about it, mate," he said. "She's already done this to you once, I can't believe you'd let her walk all over you like this-"

          "She's your sister!" Hermione cried, turning on her husband. "You know perfectly well that she's always wanted to be in the big leagues, how can you take it against her?"

          Ron looked flabbergasted, but obviously didn't want to fight with his wife. "It's true though, Herm, look at Harry. He's had to work from home and pass Jamie around my mum and Andromeda just because Ginny can't seem to find roots where her fiancé is. That's a bit messed up, I tell you."

          Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "I'm sure she and Harry have talked about it thoroughly and adjusted to each other's needs, haven't you, Harry?"

          "Er... yeah, kind of..." Harry mumbled, suddenly regretting ever calling his best friends over. He hadn't exactly foreseen them to be on the extreme opposites where Ginny was concerned.

          "Kind of?"

          "What d'you mean, 'kind of'?"

          "I mean, of course we had an arrangement for her strict training schedule, but we hadn't exactly expected to have a child at this point, not when we both knew that she had to away for so long each time."

          "Exactly," Ron said, smugly. "You should go and talk to Odair yourself and make him understand that Ginny has to rearrange her priorities a bit first, at least until James is a bit older, you know?"

          "But, Ron," Harry argued, "it's not like Ginny will have the Chaser position held for her. She's worked really hard over the last few years to get the top spot, and being away for too long might jeopardize all of that."

          Hermione nodded. "It must be very hard for you, Har," she said, "but I think you've been doing well with the arrangement. I mean, Ginny's told me how difficult it's been since you had Jamie, and how she's been pushing herself to come home as soon as she can and spend as much time with both of you when she can."

          "It's true, she has," Harry agreed. "I mean, we barely got to see each other sometimes, but she did try her best. I'd sometimes wake up with her gone, but with James taken care of and breakfast prepared for me." He met eyes with Ron. "But sometimes I think that it's become a bit lopsided. Like I've had to take over much of Jamie's care because Ginny has a lot of other stuff to manage first, and I don't want the kid growing up in such an environment. And I can't always depend on Andy or Molly, seeing as they all have their hands full with their own grandchildren."

          "Ginny's missing out on her own son's life," Ron gritted out. "I know, she's my baby sister, and I do love her, but I think she's started to take this for granted."

          Harry felt a bit of anger at the implication. "If you're hinting that I'm allowing her to walk all over me-"

          "I'm not!" Ron said crossly. "I'm trying to look at this as objectively as possible, Harry. C'mon! She's related to me but I feel like you're getting the shorter end of the deal, here. Doesn't that tell you that something is off? I mean, look at me and Herm! We've had to go through a huge readjustment just to compromise and adjust to each other. It wasn't easy-"

          "It's hardly the same, Ron," Hermione interrupted. "I was overworking myself, and I realized later on that I wasn't going about my career the right way. Ginny-"

          "Ginny's back in her element," Harry said matter-of-factly. "She was all out of sorts when she was here. She didn't complain about it in the few months she stayed home with me, but... she just wasn't herself."

          "She's aspired to be Chaser for the national team," Ron said. "But she's got to realize that those kinds of dreams have to take a bit of a backseat. She's got a kid, for Merlin's sake."

          "You have two," Harry pointed out. "You managed just fine."

          "Yeah, and Hermione's had to stay out of work for a year and had to stay on a consultancy while I've had to give up some fieldwork so I could stay home as much as I can."

          Harry let out a breath that he had been holding. "I didn't expect you guys to actually argue about this. I was thinking of just letting out some of my frustrations and thought you'd deserve at least an explanation. Please don't argue for our sake. Ginny's back where she belongs-"

          "So she doesn't belong where you are?"

          "No!" Harry cried at Ron's comment. "You know I didn't mean it like that! It's just-"

          "Stop putting words in his mouth, Ronald!" Hermione admonished her husband. "Ginny's got every right to do what she wants, especially since she's been working so hard for it!"

          "What about James though?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "She's in Montreal now. She'll be back in a month, then she'll have to go to some other country again. I wasn't against it at first, Mione, but... is that the best she can do for Jamie?"

          Hermione bit her lip at Harry's expression. "I - I can't -"

          "Malfoy told me that nurse elves take care of children while the parents go back to their careers. Is that normal? I thought it was a bit much."

          Ron nodded. "Pureblood tradition. If you've got two nurse elves, the kid hardly lacks for anything. But that's not how most people do it nowadays. Even some Pureblood families now are starting to take time off to at least keep an eye on the elves. What?" he added at Hermione's incredulous look. "It's an old custom, it's not that common now, but don't look so shocked."

          "It's appalling!" she exclaimed. "Elves, take care of your children!"

          "It's hardly any different from hiring a wet nurse or a nanny, is it?" Harry told her.

          Ron cocked his head. "Pureblood traditions aside, I didn't think you would ever go that route. You just don't come across as the kind of parent to even let go of your son for five minutes," he said with a smirk. "I know you're more of a hands-on dad and all. Even I'm not that kind of a dad, though I do like spending time with my kids."

          Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You're still a patriarchal arse, Ronald," she said teasingly. "I agree with Harry, having elves care for your children are a bit too much."

          Harry snorted. "And weren't you just telling me that it was alright for Ginny to be away?"

          Hermione was at a loss for words. "I just meant - I mean, at least James has you, and she comes to stay with you, right?"

          "Not when she's at another country, like this," Harry said. "When she was in China, all we had were Floo calls and packages. The worst thing about it is that Jamie didn't even realize that his mum was away," he added bitterly. "Didn't even cry when she left. It as kind of sad, actually."

          "Harry," Ron said, grasping Harry's arm to get his attention. "Are you and Ginny really okay?"

          When Harry was taking too long to answer, Hermione shook her head. "No, no, I'm sure this is just a little bump in the road. I mean, you saw what happened to me and Ron. I'm sure the solution is just beyond our sights..."

          Harry gave a shaky laugh. "I've been telling myself that for a while, Hermione... but I've come to realize that something's... it's just not right anymore."

          When neither friend had anything to say, Harry finally decided to put out his worst fears.

          "Why do you think she won't marry me?"

          Ron turned pale and Hermione looked stumped.

          "Yeah, there's something wrong with that, isn't there?" Harry said, laughing hollowly. "She says it's wrong to rush into marriage just because we've had a kid, but honestly, I still can't think of a reason why we haven't done it already."

          "Harry, there's nothing wrong about having a child first," Hermione reminded him. "Even the wizarding world is understanding of that, and there isn't any nonsense about children being born out of wedlock. Besides, you and Gin are engaged anyway."

          "It doesn't really mean much though, not if she hasn't shown the slightest interest in moving forward with me. It's not exactly reassuring that both Ginny and I are actually fine being apart.

          "Just because you're physically apart doesn't mean you're emotionally distant," Hermione insisted.

          "Yeah, but see? That's the crux of our problem, Mione."

          "What is?"

          "The fact that both she and I are perfectly fine. It's kind of a red flag, you know, when you realize you're just fine and dandy whether your fiancée is with you or not. I barely even notice when she's away - it doesn't make much of a difference. And I'm pretty sure it's the same with James. He hardly misses his own mum, because he hasn't an idea what he's even supposed to miss."

          "Harry..."

          "It's true. It's fact. It's got to be odd that we're absolutely fine just living our own lives apart. I'm starting to think that..."

          "What?" Ron asked concernedly.

          "...that we might just be fine... being apart."

 

***

 

          Draco felt lost. He had grown up in the shadow of countless Malfoys who claimed prestige and honor. He had been raised and bred from the finest and purest of magical blood, but here he was, drowning himself in thoughts that merited at least a hanging in the Malfoy rule books. The very idea was very much treason, but Draco couldn't give a damn.

          He just realized that he very much wanted to become a part of his son's life, and not in the way that Malfoys were 'bred'. He hated the word. He wanted his son to have the kind of life that he, Draco, had never even thought he had wanted. Now he did, and he was damn well ready to turn his back upon his family's traditions for the little boy who had captured his heart and soul the very first moment he laid eyes on him.

          Little Scorpius. That boy was going to be the death of him, he was absolutely sure of it.

          Draco had allowed several weeks to pass after he had had that reminiscent sit-down with his mother. Narcissa had gladly recounted all the little milestones that he had made as a toddler, but throughout her tale, he couldn't help but notice the fleeting sparks of sadness that curtained her expression whenever she spoke of the strict Malfoy upbringing that Lucius had so insisted. The Black family had always leaned towards Pureblood ideals, but Narcissa admitted to having been part of the generation that had been exposed to more liberal ideals. Her sister Andromeda, had welcomed her estrangement and lived out her life in relative happiness away from the strict upbringing, while her cousin, Sirius, had gone completely against the grain and done everything within his ability to upset his elders, choosing Gryffindor as the greatest insult to his own family. Narcissa, however, had married into the proud Malfoy family, which was perhaps as traditional and old-blood as Pureblood could ever get. She knew what to expect from such an arrangement, and while she and Lucius had had a strong alliance and a rather warm closeness, she did not always agree with the strict and sometimes painful treatment of children in the Malfoy line.

          Draco had learned from his mother about his father's short temper when it came to spending time with Draco. Narcissa lamented that Lucius was completely against coddling their son, though she had always longed to have him in her arms (and got away with a bit of hugging behind his father's back).

          Sure, Draco realized that he had gotten everything he had ever asked of his parents, but after his entry into Hogwarts, everything had come at a price. Gifts were rewards, and he had had to do something to please his father in order to get what he wanted. While he had taken a particular sort of pride in doing so as a child, he now realized that he didn't want his son to have to do something first in order to receive attention from his parents.

          The more he thought about it, the more Draco remembered blurred memories of Narcissa sneaking in a little squeeze of his shoulder, or a quick kiss to his forehead. Kind words and warm touches in a sea of punishments and high expectations. She had always appeared haughty and indifferent to others, but never, never to Draco. And after that long and emotional conversation. Draco vowed to always show his mother how very special he thought her to be, and how much he actually loved her.

          How very un-Malfoy they had both become.

 

***

 

          "Harryyyyyy, can I come with you an' Jamie?"

          Harry laughed. "We're not going anywhere, little man, I'm just going up to change his nappies!"

          Teddy scrunched his nose in childish disgust - apparently he had an inkling of what dirty diapers meant.

          "You can come and help, though," Harry offered, thinking it would me much easier to take care of two boys in the same room than if he had let the kid run around downstairs while his attention was on his son.

          Teddy appeared to think it over in his head, then nodded enthusiastically. Harry did notice that his godson always loved involving himself in everything concerning James. With a pang, he knew it was because he considered Jamie to be his little brother, and Harry had no problem with that.

          "I'll watch," the boy offered with a grin.

          Harry gave out an exaggerated sigh, but motioned upstairs anyway. "Alright, and I'll change the nappies," he said, laughing.

         

          So far, he had survived for another three weeks of just him and James, plus the occasional visit from Teddy. Ron and Hermione only came over twice since their last talk, because Harry had insisted that he needed some more time to himself. Neither of his best mates had told him what to do or how exactly to handle his current situation, but they had been supportive just by being with him and listening. It was all he could have asked for and he was very grateful.

          Ginny's return from Canada wouldn't be for another week, and he felt he still needed that much time to prepare. After all, it wasn't every day that one asked their fiancée if breaking their engagement was for the best. No, that kind of conversation needed a lot of warming up.

          As he and Teddy changed James (or, more accurately, Harry changed James while Teddy knocked around some bottles and jars while looking on curiously), the sound of the Floo from the fireplace downstairs rang.

          "Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath. "Hey Teddy, would you mind staying with Jamie by his play area in the sitting room?" he asked as he and his godson jogged down the stairs. "I've got a call, and it may be important, so it's best if you take care of James for a bit. Think you're up to the challenge?"

          "Of course! I'm grown up!" Teddy exclaimed, puffing out his chest proudly and hair turning a shade of red. Harry was immediately reminded of a tiny Percy Weasley.

          "Okay," the Auror said cheerfully, putting James down into his pen and then rushing to the fire. "Remember to keep your voice down, alright?" he called behind him, "I’ll be back real quick!"

 

          When he waved the call in, he was surprised to see Hermione's head in the green flames. "Everything alright, Mione?" he asked. His friends usually respected his requests for privacy, so he knew that this call was rather important.

          "I'm guessing you haven't seen the paper, then?" Hermione said, looking slightly nervous. "Do you have the Prophet with you?'

          Harry looked around on the two coffee tables in the sitting room. "No," he said. "Must've missed the delivery, the owl usually delivers to my home office, but I have been to since this morning. I've had my hands full of Teddy, after all."

          "Of course," said Hermione. "But would you mind getting to it now? I think it's best you read it before hearing it from someone else..."

          Harry couldn't help but be a little curious. It wasn't difficult to get Hermione flustered, but he had long since become sensitive to his friends' reactions, and he took her warning tone seriously.

          "Alright," he said. "D'you mind if I get back to you, then? I don't like leaving the kids for too long. I'll call you back," he promised.

          Hermione nodded, brow still furrowed. "Okay, but please call me right after, Harry."

         

          When he once again checked on Teddy and James and ensured they were alriht by themselves, he called Kreacher to keep an eye on them.

          He took a quick look around his office and spotted the day's edition of the Daily Prophet on one corner of his cluttered desk. With a shaking hand, he turned it over and was shocked to see Ginny on the front cover. She looked stressed and harassed, and the animated photo looped again and again, on her walking by and hurrying away from the camera.

          The first thought that Harry had was, how in the fucking hell could she have been photographed? Harry was sure that his _Solum Sanctuarii_ wards covered her privacy. While showing photos of either of them was no longer illegal, he had assumed that with his strict bindings, no one would have been able to notice her or photograph her in such circumstances. She could make herself be noticed when she wanted, but seeing the look on her face in the photo, Harry could tell that it was a candid shot, and this puzzled him.

          The headline, however, shocked the confusion out of him, replacing it with an empty hollow feeling the pit of his stomach.

          "Chosen One's Fiancée Hiding Secret Pregnancy?" was printed in bold typeface. The letters seemed to shout at Harry, and he stood that way for several minutes, not even bothering to read the rest of the article. He was too numb at the moment.

          _What the flying fuck?!_        

 

         


	21. Three is a Crowd

**(Present, 2006)**

         "Have you heard from her yet?"

        Harry shook his head. "She needs about a day or two to get approval for an international Floo call. I expect she'll get in touch by tomorrow morning."

         "What do you think happened?" Ron asked. The three of them were in the Burrow, putting their heads together trying to make sense of the major crisis that now threatened the Boy-Who-Lived. "Harry's wards are still going strong with us. And Ginny's been away before, and for longer."

         He turned to Hermione automatically. It had long since been an involuntary tic for both Ron and Harry to expect the right answers from her. She sighed.

         "I'm just as stumped as you are," she said weakly with a grimace. " _Solum Sanctuarii_ is supposedly the most powerful privacy ward there is, and its strength shouldn't be limited by either distance, or how thinly it's spread among individuals. The only reason I can think of such an ancient more of magic failing is if the magic itself has gone wrong."

         "So... you've no idea?" Harry asked desperately. He had gotten so used to her solving everything by reciting a book verbatim. She shook her head sadly.

         "We'll look into it," Ron ensured, going into his Auror-on-the-job role.

         "I don't want this to be even bigger than it already is," Harry whined. "Bringing in the team, even for just research, will be putting too many people involved. I'd prefer to keep this between ourselves for now. If possible, just between Ginny and me," he added.

         Hermione seemed to agree. "Wise move," she said. "This issue has already taken the magical community by storm, but so far, I'm sure the public will be treating this as more of gossip and hearsay than actual news."

         It was one of the reasons Harry wasn't cursing everything in sight yet - every witch and wizard had now made it a habit to second guess the Daily Prophet after the terrible yellow journalism during the War. Harry was grateful that people were at least starting to think for themselves for once.

         Their conversation was interrupted by the tapping of an owl by the window. Ron recognized it as one of their official owls, so he immediately took the letter it delivered. His face scrunched as he read it.

         "What's wrong?" Hermione asked concernedly.

         "It's stupid," the redhead answered. "I can't believe it. Auror Stone is insisting we take care of this stupid paperwork, despite the obvious crisis that Harry is facing right now."

         Harry groaned. The man had no heart, he was sure of it. "What've we got to do this time?" he asked, already admitting defeat. No one had warned him of all the parchment work he'd have to live with.

         Ron passed him one of the sheets. "Confirmation for Macmillan and Malfoy about the statements they gave for the additional mind maps. In triplicate," he scowled.

         "Fucker." Harry went through the pages. "I swear, if he weren't our boss... d'you think we can Floo them both and just have them sign? Send him back his bloody owl as soon as it's all done."

         Ron nodded sagely and used his wand to magically throw some Floo powder into the fire. "Ernie Macmillan!" he called out.

         In no time, the burly man appeared in the green flames. "What's up?" he asked casually.

         "Sorry, Ernie," Harry shouted from where he was. "Business matters. Auror Stone needs you to sign this. There are three copies. Mind doing it now, and as quick as you can?"

         Macmillan frowned. "Won't we need to read them properly?" he asked, accepting the papers through the enchanted fire.

         "Nah," Ron said. "Just another useless process where you and Malfoy just sign off to verify, yet again, that you both were voluntary witnesses. It's stupid, but some dingy office probably needs these for no real reason but to make our lives more complicated."

         Macmillan snorted, then disappeared from the fire, presumably to sign the documents. In a minute, his head returned and he handed back the parchment to Ron. "Anything else?" he asked, eyeing Harry warily, perhaps wanting to sincerely ask after his colleague without crossing him.

         Harry just sighed. "Not for now, but we'll tell you about it when it gets sorted out," he promised. Macmillan nodded, said his goodbyes and disappeared.

         "Well that wasn't too hard," Hermione said, trying to lighten the mood. This time, she waved her own wand and threw the second batch of shimmery powder into the flames. "Draco Malfoy!" she announced clearly.

        

***

 

         Draco was just putting down a sleeping Scorpius into his floating bassinet when Libby the elf popped in to announce a fire call. When he was informed of who was calling, he immediately rushed to the nearest fire (only one of the many to be found scattered about in the Manor for convenience, of course).

         He had been gobsmacked by the front page news that day, though he hadn't had the nerve to mention it to the Auror in case it was a much more sensitive issue. Draco couldn't deny, however, that he was very worried what it might mean to his new friend. For once, he understood what the Trio had meant about being supportive in times of emotional upheavals. He wanted to be supportive, but he didn't know how.

         The elf had said the call was business related, so he adopted a casual yet polite manner once he settled in front of the flames.

         "Hey, Draco!" Hermione's gentle voice called out from the emerald light in the hearth.

         "Hello, Hermione," he greeted back with a genuine smile. "Potter, Weasley," he added, nodding to the other two men as well.

         "Malfoy," Weasley greeted, getting straight to the point. "Auror Philius Stone needs you to er, reconfirm, for the nth time, that you and Macmillan were willing witnesses. Just sign and put your magical signature on the three copies. Shouldn't take too long."

         Draco sighed and received the papers from the redhead. He absolutely _abhorred_ any sort of mundane parchment work, usually having others on hand to do so for him. "Is this standard procedure?" he inquired while flipping through the pages and making mental notes on where he needed to sign.

         "A bit," Weasley replied. "Not as often as the requests now, but for some reason it's a requirement to have various redundant confirmations archived in the Ministry. The Eilert investigation was examined for a bit, and revisited in the last few months, so new verification was needed."

         As Draco signed the three forms, he stole a glance through the fire at Potter, who was partly hidden from Draco's point of view. "No snarky comebacks today, Scarhead?" he asked flippantly.

         Weasley turned red and gaped like a fish, while Hermione gave an audible gasp of horror.

         Of course, Draco was only trying to reach Potter the only way he knew how - by verbal fencing. And to the surprise of the Weasel and the Mudblood, Potter gave out a barking laugh.

         "Fuck you, Ferret," he exclaimed, but without the expected vitriol. "Hah. Nothing like a good insult from you to start the day right, eh?"

         Draco smirked. He noticed that Weasley still had his mouth wide open.

         Hermione looked livid, and positively scandalized. "Draco!" she admonished harshly. "I'm not sure if you've got even a _tiny_ drop of sensitivity in that self-proclaimed _pure blood_ of yours, but Harry's having a difficult time right now and the _last_ thing he needs is-"

         "Give it up, Hermione," Potter waved her off, still laughing.

         Draco scoffed at her attempt to give him a sermon and instead focused on his once-archenemy. The brunet looked as if he hadn't gotten enough sleep - the sallow skin and baggy eyes made Draco worry a bit, but also determined to show the remainders of the Trio that coddling was the last thing that Potter needed.

         "I saw the paper this morning," was all he said.

         Potter huffed. "Of course you have. The entire magical community has." He scrunched up his nose in distaste. "As if there weren't anything else they could talk about my life, eh? A relationship scandal is sure to bring up every wrong thing I've ever done in this world since I was born."

         "Oh stop the histrionics, Potter," Draco drawled. "Despite your complete trust in old magic, even you can't be stupidly ignorant enough to have expected _Solum Sanctuarii t_ o be a hundred percent fool proof."

         "Why shouldn't he?" Hermione demanded. "We all made sure to look it up and go through every possible consequence. It had no reason to suddenly fail now."

         "What are you talking about?" Draco eyed them skeptically. "Oh. Oh. Of course." He shook his head in mock pity.

         "Of course, what?!" Weasley exclaimed, still slightly red. "Just explain it already, you git. Are we missing something?"

"Oh, Potter," Draco lamented, "only you could invoke such a major ancient magic such as _Solum Sanctuarii_ and have it mess up."

         "What are you on about, Malfoy?" Potter finally asked, perhaps a bit scathingly. Draco could give him that - after all, the man was having a pretty shitty day.

         "Once you invoked it, I, of course, used all the resources within my grasp to educate myself on its finer aspects. Just in case, you know, I might somehow use it to my advantage. Lo and behold, it seems as though even I know more than you do, given the amount of research material tucked away in the Malfoy library."

         At his words, Hermione's eyes widened. Of course she would be excited with the prospect of hidden research material. "So we _did_ miss something?"

         When Draco nodded, Potter abruptly stood up and fell on his knees in front of the fire in an act of desperation. The blond had to admit that the sudden closing of distance, even through the Floo, was a bit of a shock. "Tell me," Harry said calmly, though Draco sensed the demand behind the even tone of his voice.

         "Well, first of all, the _Solum Sanctuarii_ has an infinite range when invoked, meaning that the focus of the ancient invocation, meaning you," he paused, pointing at Potter, "is the basis for the wards."

         "Yes, we already know that," Hermione interrupted. "The bindings are focused on Harry's magical core but also feeds on those that he places the wards on. There are no practical limitations on the number of the individuals or the distance of these individuals from the focus. Meaning that Ron and I could go to Australia for a year and Harry's privacy wards on us would still be as strong as the first day."

         "Those are the basics," Draco drawled impatiently. "But therein lies your slight oversight. You see, the infinite nature of _Solum Sanctuarii'_ s wards is the direct result of its running on one's magical core. For as long as the focus desires the existence of wards, the magical intent behind it will automatically power the wards no matter how many or how far, or even how long in terms of time."

         "I don't get it," Potter said, frowning. "Nothing has changed since the day I invoked _Solum Sanctuarii_. My magical intent has been the same, and everyone else's wards have remained consistent. We checked," he added with a wry smile. "Ginny has been away for long periods of time for the last few years, so why should her privacy wards fail only now?"

         "Er..." For the first time in a while, Draco found himself speechless. He had only just realized what an awkward position this put him in. "Well....."

         "Out with it!" Weasley exclaimed with impatience. "Why?"

         Draco took a deep breath. (Did it seem exaggerated? No, not for this. He needed enough wind for this). "Well... as you already know, the wards are powered by the magical core and magical intent of the focus..."

         "And?"

         "Since it is dependent on your magical core, the interaction of the wards are obviously dependent on the interaction of the individual's core with yours."

         "So?"

         Draco wanted to strangle Potter by this point, but now he almost felt sorry for the Auror. "The only known limitations of the _Solum Sanctuarii_ are... dictated by the limitations of the stability and interaction of the magical cores involved..."

         "Meaning?"

         "Damn it, Potter, do I have to spell it out for you?! It doesn't matter how far away or for how long your Weaselette is gone. The wards only fail in two conditions, and worse if it's both: if the emotional connections of your magical cores aren't in sync anymore, or... if one's magic is unstable and fluctuating, such as during a very stressful pregnancy..."

         The silence that followed was so loud that Draco wanted to cover his ears.

         "I see," Potter said calmly, smoothly. "That... makes some sense, I guess..."

         Draco looked doubtfully at the man, while Weasley and Hermione grabbed the opportunity to voice out their own concerns.

         "Harry, what are you talking about?"

"Mate, it can't be that bad, right??

         "-have to check on historical accounts-"

         "-you've been fine for a pretty long time-"

         "-we can't just base this on Draco's theory-"

         "-sure we can fix this up by getting her back here-"

         "Draco," Potter said suddenly, as if disregarding his best friends' words. Draco glanced at him, surprised at the sudden and casual use of his given name. "Are you sure about this?"

He nodded, hiding the slight sadness he felt for Potter. He knew that the relationship wasn't as strong as the Chosen Couple had been projecting it to the public, but still... he could sympathize wizard to wizard. Even with the privacy wards, there was no predicting how big of a backlash this could cause from the fickle public, who, Draco thought scathingly, were so quick to judge their Savior.

         "Okay, then," Potter stood up and brushed off his trousers. "Thanks for all the information." The tone was that of finality and for a second, Draco felt as if he were being abandoned somehow. However, he turned his gaze to Potter's emerald green eyes and _felt,_ rather than saw, the depth of... their understanding? It had certainly felt odd, as if magic was crawling up his spine. In those secret seconds, Draco _understood_ the silent signal that Potter wasn't cutting him off, he just had to deal with his own. How he instinctively got that from one significant look was beyond him.

         "The papers," Weasley coughed quietly, holding out his hand for them. Draco silently complied, still looking at the brunet through the fire.

         "Will that be all then?" he asked, unsure. When Hermione nodded morosely, Draco sighed. "Alright. Glad to have been of use. Have a good day."

         And the connection closed.

         But that didn't mean Draco's heavy heart had stopped aching.

 

***

 

         "I hate to say it, but what Malfoy said makes a hell of a lot of sense, considering everything that's happened. Based on the rumors so far, I mean."

         Ron looked aghast at Harry's calm demeanor, but didn't say anything. Harry knew that it was a difficult position for his best mate to be in - caught between his best friend and his sister. He had thankfully grown past his teenage urge to implode and rant impulsively, which meant that he was still probably coming up with the appropriate response.

         Hermione, as always, was first to react. "I still think we need to find empirical data before we conclude that the emotional... imbalance... is the root cause of the failed wards."

         Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Like I said, Mione, it makes sense. I know I haven't been completely... honest... with you two, but given your precarious position with your family..."

         "You've mentioned it before," Ron pointed out. "That last talk that we had about Ginny leaving."

         "Yes, but that was about Ginny leaving," Hermione countered. "Not of the nature of their actual relationship."

         "I fucking hate this!" Both Ron and Hermione stopped their argument at Harry's sudden outburst, which may or may not have caused several of the lights to flicker. The brunet just scoffed. "Only I have the luck of having the most powerful fucking privacy ward, and having it fail in the most inconvenient way, and humongously public at that."

         "Oh, Harry..." Hermione moved to hug him, but he remained stiff in her arms. "We'll deal with all of this together, and once Ginny calls..."          "She'd better," Ron mumbled.

         Hermione gave him her patented stink eye before turning back to Harry. "I'm sure that a good talk between the two of you will be able to at least clear up the unspoken issues. Perhaps..."

         "Perhaps what?" Harry asked, eyes closed.

         Hermione sighed. "Perhaps this is Fate's way of shaking you up and telling you to take another look."

 

***

        

         "Astoria has been waiting for you," Narcissa announced when Draco appeared in her side of the Manor. "Something to do with Scorpius, I believe."

         Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "I took him this morning for a walk around the garden. I would have taken him in earlier but I had some... business calls to attend to."

         "I see," his mother all but purred behind him as they walked towards the sun room that Narcissa and Astoria seemed to love so much. "And how has your time with Scorpius been?"

         "Well enough, Mother," he replied,, his voice tinted with the warmth of affection for his son. "It took a bit of persuasion for both nurse elves to give him up to me, but I believe it was worth it."

         "I am very glad that you think so, my dear," Narcissa said.

        Draco turned to her and saw a sparkle in her eyes that meant that she was bravely keeping back tears. "No need to turn on the Aguamenti, mother!" he sighed exasperatedly, even as he informally wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Physical affection was not commonly practiced in the Malfoy line, which made both Draco and Narcissa feel smug that they were able to rebel in their own little way.

         "Forgive me, my son," the woman said softly. "It's just that... seeing how you are with Scorpius... I had been afraid that he would live through the same rigid standards of your... father's family. But watching how you are with him, the way that your face just lights up at the sight of him, that is what brings tears of joy to my eyes."

         Draco was surprised, but silently agreed. He himself had been afraid of his son's upbringing. Sure, he had grown up knowing what rules were to be introduced, what behavior was to be rewarded or punished, but it was only recently, after the War and after his mother's separation from Lucius that he began to wonder what exactly it meant to have children - because he knew that it was so very different from 'having heirs'.

         He and Astoria, had once again become the beacon of the modernized Purebloods, seeking to compromise and revolutionize what it meant to follow old traditions as well as accept new ones. Though admittedly, his wife was much more of a believer in the truly traditional customs while he found himself defending his more... liberal... tendencies when it came to the child-rearing. So far though, the couple had had no real problems when it came to Scorpius.

         "Your wife has made it a point to complain about you at least once, every time I see her."

         Oh. Apparently he was mistaken, then.

         "What sort of complaints?" Draco inquired brusquely as if ignoring his bruised ego casually.

         "About the rather... unorthodox way you have been raising your son, or at least that is how she puts it." Narcissa's nostrils flared, which Draco took to mean that she was not in agreement. "She says you now spend more time with the child that going to the last couple of balls that she has organized. Once or twice, she has suggested that you have become slightly over-attached."

         Draco shook his head in amused disbelief. "Of course I'd rather spend my time with my own flesh and blood than play masquerade with strangers who could care less about me beyond my social standing. I've experienced the ideal pureblood childhood, as did she, and I am quite sure at this point in my life that I didn't quite appreciate how much I was missing back then. I refuse to make the same mistake to Scorpius, especially now that I understand what a difference it can make for Astoria and me to be more... present."

         At his words, Narcissa's lip quirked up a bit. "I have told you before that I have no intention of meddling in your private affairs, Draco, but something like this must be addressed soon. Your pairing is of great significance to the new world order, and it unfortunately puts you in the scrutinizing eye of the magical public. Your actions speak louder than words, and if they see that there is even a scruple of discord in your relationship..."

         Draco's brow furrowed at her concern. "Our means of raising the next Malfoy heir is hardly the business of anyone without that name," he pointed out. "Yes, I do understand that Astoria and I must always be sensitive to the image that we project, and impressions mean a lot in our circles. However, she and I have already discussed this before, and while I understand that her responsibilities might take her far and away, mine happen to leave me with much freedom to spend my hours however I desire. And I do prefer to spend them with Scorpius. None of this is dictated explicitly in our contract anyway."

         He found himself pacing in slight agitation, but his Mother's presence helped him to calm down in order to think about everything going through his head at the moment.

         "I have been blessed enough to have made a new name for myself, and to have such a high regard for my profession within the ministry itself, in only a few years. Of course I know the benefits we reap from making friends and forging new alliances in all those official events that we attend. It was the only reason we are where we are now. But I realized lately that I no longer put too much stock in the social aspect of our society."

         Narcissa's expression told Draco that she was slightly shocked. She had always been more supportive of his latest decisions, but always made sure to be graciously neutral. She always did make a great Devil's Advocate.

         "What of your responsibilities as a husband to Astoria? You still have to cater to her needs and whims."

         "Our betrothal contracts were written so as to favor our respective needs for ambition, and we both still have those drives to take care of even now. I don't believe much has changed in our situation except for the new heir. My career and interests just happen to be more lenient than Astoria's demanding and Portkey-setting lifestyle. I see nothing wrong with taking my own son away from his nurse elves a few times a day, even if it means missing some unimportant or redundant parties."

         "I had always wanted to do that with you," Narcissa suddenly mused. "Back when you were still a tiny bundle of blondeness. I always wanted to steal you away from the nurse elves. Your father, of course, made it more difficult since the elves were more likely to listen to his orders instead of mine. I did manage it though, and I have never regretted those moments when I could hold you as if we were the only two beings left in the world and all we had was each other."

         She smiled warmly and Draco couldn't help but return her warm expression.

         "I am thankful for my recent realizations," Draco admitted. "Spending time with, er, less traditional individuals, has opened my eyes to issues which I might have missed or deemed insignificant had I continued to blindly follow the rigid pureblood ways.

         "Astoria herself has no problems with the old ways of child rearing," he remarked thoughtfully. "And I used to agree with her. After all, it is the status quo, and nothing much has changed in the system for the last few decades. Wizards and witches of pureblood status are raised to understand familial duties and obligations, but not familial relationships. And look at me now, I can't possibly imagine leaving Scorpius in the company of nurse elves during his infancy even though I was brought up to expect such a practice."

         "Nothing is wrong with that, my dragon," Narcissa whispered. "I do not take sides in this, for I am still the descendant of an old and powerful family. I was raised with the same expectations, but I admittedly had my own... misgivings about some of them. I understand Astoria's frustrations - you two have entered a magically binding contract, and must therefore forge into the future with these mutual goals in mind. Both of your ambitions depend heavily on your public persona, and it would do you well to remember that.

         "However..." she gave him a sparkling smile and squeezed his arm. "It does not mean that you should cease from your instinctual need to dote on your own son. Perhaps a compromise will work best in this circumstance. It might be a little unusual for the more conservative purebloods when they find out that you wish to be involved in your sons early childhood development, but you can always keep that more private. Meanwhile you can easily cater to Astoria's needs and deal with them in the spotlight. Look at Pansy and her husband."

         Draco smirked. His best friend had been the subject of a scandal years ago when she had inexplicably fallen hard for the Quidditch hero, Oliver Wood, who was a half-blood but known to favor the more muggle conventions of marriage and family. From what Draco had observed, she was still quite happy and enamoured of her husband until now. Despite their typical pureblood contractual marriage, their partnership was largely dependent on compromise. Perhaps they didn't have too many drastic changes - He knew it was largely because of Wood's insistence that they be more involved with the kids, and Pansy would usually humor him. They still brought up their children in much the same way as expected of purebloods, with nurse elves and limited emotional involvement - but there was a touch of warmth and affection that showed through the couple and their children whenever Draco came by to visit.

         Perhaps it was those moments he had with these... non-traditions... that Draco himself had realized he wanted a son, and not an heir. He wanted to be a real father.

         "I will discuss this with Astoria," he promised his mother. "It is something that we can easily deal with. She is intelligent and understands much more than she lets on, including her wisdom when it comes to our marriage and how we play it out. After all, it was one of the reasons I wanted to marry her in the first place."

         "She has been acting different after Scorpius' birth," Narcissa pondered. "Perhaps she was not ready for this stage in your life?"

         "Nonsense," Draco argued. "She and I were brought up with the same customs and expectations. We have already delayed begetting heirs. I'm quite sure that she has her reasons for acting out."

         He didn't voice out to his mother his own insecure assumptions. He had always been proud of his having her as a wife, and always aimed to please her as much as he could, even when it sometimes meant he had to swallow his Malfoy pride. He wouldn't go as far as to say that they were very romantic - after all, such a relationship was not truly expected in pureblood alliances. But he had seen the way Lucius and Narcissa had looked at each other, and even without words Draco understood that there was something hiding in those furtive glances and secret smiles. He had wanted that. And he found it in Astoria.

         Their courtship had been a success, and Draco had felt the same stirrings of admiration and affection for his then-fiancée. She reciprocated, and they found that they had very similar outlooks in life, and thus were able to create a satisfying contract for their marriage. He was no blood mania fanatic, and she was not an air-headed bimbo. They were a power couple in every sense, and they knew how to use it to their advantage. Not for nothing was the Malfoy family name reborn with the high respect that it now enjoyed.

         Now, however, Draco couldn't help but feel as if he were wrong-footed, as if nothing he did could ever appease his wife. He wasn't sure when the doubts had risen to the surface, but Narcissa was right. Astoria had been acting out of sorts a few weeks after Scorpius' birth, and he felt within himself that it was probably his fault.

         He couldn't tell that to Narcissa, though.

         "Come to me later, Draco," the matriarch said seriously, before turning gracefully and walking towards her own suite within the Manor.

         That left Draco in place, deflated but determined. He took a deep breath to gather momentum for his upcoming talk with Astoria.'

 

***

 

         It was very early, _too_ early in the morning, when the Floo finally rang and Harry rushed to the fire in time to see Ginny's face form out of the green flames.

         "Harry!" she sobbed. "I don't know what happened! I hadn't realized until I got your owl! News from Britain doesn't get here fast enough, but I did my best to arrange this call-"

         Harry stared at her and bit his lip, trying to find the right words. "Did you read the article?"

         She nodded morosely.

         "Is it true?"

         "I - I just -" Ginny's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "I just found out the other day, Harry! It's true, but I didn't mean for it come out before you even found out! I don't know how -"

         Harry suddenly felt as if his insides had been cleanly cut out from him - just empty and hollow. And that was not what he expected feeling upon hearing that he was to have another child. This was not the way a happy couple was meant to react to the news that they were expecting. Perhaps that was a pretty clear sign that something was definitely wrong here.

         "-I swear, Harry, I have no idea how-"

         "We've got a pretty good theory on how," he suddenly said, trying to keep his voice calm. It wouldn't do to get Ginny riled up. With everything going on, he just couldn’t risk her becoming even more upset now that he finally knew… not when her emotions were already taking a toll on both of them.

        Or, well, the _three_ of them.

        

 

 

 

 


	22. Many Meetings

**(Present, 2006)**

            "Mr. Potter, Ms. Weasley, if you would," said the courteous Mediwitch, pointing to one of the doors behind her. To be honest, it annoyed Harry even more for the reminder that they weren't yet a married couple, but apparently on their second child already.

            As he and Ginny settled themselves in the pristinely white examination room of their Healer and awaited for her arrival, he couldn't help but fidget with the loop of his jeans. After the brief talk with Ginny over the Floo the other night, he convinced her to arrange an emergency leave from the Harpies (and Ginny had thankfully remained silent about it and went immediately to the managers) so that she could be granted an immediate international Portkey back to London.

            Despite having had a rough few weeks, Harry had had no problem arranging her stay at Grimmauld Place, though she still admitted that she missed their old flat. Things were still a bit awkward between them, if Harry were being completely honest, but nothing that wholly derailed their friendship - that was one thing that they were both sure would last a lifetime. In the current circumstances, they had no choice anyway but to fully support each other as they entered yet another challenge.

            "Harry, Ginny, it's great to see you again!" Healer Rosewood greeted warmly. She had been hired as Harry's (and by extension, Ginny's) personal Healer, under the strictest of privacy wards but also within good terms of friendship. She had delivered James, Hugo and Rose, after all, which merited her much respect from Harry and the entire Weasley family.

            "Good day, Helen," Harry greeted, while Ginny smiled meekly. "Er, thanks for seeing us on short notice. It's a bit of an emergency."

            "So I've heard," the Healer responded wryly. She never did take well to Harry's infamy, as she liked to remind him. "Well, you might still remember the drill," she indicated to Ginny, motioning for her to go on the examination table and lay down.

            As Ginny tried to relax, Rosewood asked as gently as she could about their predicament.

            "I have no idea how it happened," Harry said thoughtfully, brow furrowing. At the mediwitch's raised brow, he felt his cheeks flush. "I mean, I know how but not _how_."

            Ginny rolled her eyes in amusement at Harry's inarticulate state. "He means, we've been using the contraceptive charm very religiously over the past year, particularly after having Jamie," she added guiltily.

            Harry nodded his acquiescence. "We've agreed to be more responsible about it, and truth be told, we've both been busy anyway, so any... er..."

            "Opportunities for sexual intercourse," the Healer supplied bluntly.

            "Er, yeah," Harry said, turning beet red. "Those have been more... controlled."

            Ginny looked imploringly at the woman discreetly casting her diagnostic spells. "How do you think it happened?" she asked.

            "Well..." Rosewood cleared her throat. "I'm sure you're very familiar with what happened to Hermione Weasley's first pregnancy?"

            When Harry and Ginny both nodded, she continued carefully. "I believe that a similar situation occurred. What I mean to say is, it appears that your magic, Ms. Weasley, has been reacting unfavorably perhaps due to extreme stress and extended states of emotional distress. Does this seem consistent so far with your current lifestyle?"

            Harry narrowed his eyes at Ginny until she finally nodded. "I've had to be away several times. It caused a bit of a problem with our home life and my training schedule has also been more rigorous due to the approaching season."

            "Yes, I see how all of that ties into your... predicament." Rosewood twirled her wand one last time against Ginny's abdomen. "There," she said gently, indicating to Ginny that she could go back to her seat.

            The redhead settled tentatively next to Harry, who automatically held out his arms to hold her while she in turn held onto his arms for support. They knew they both needed some form right now.

            "Well?" Ginny asked, looking concerned at all the conjured colored swirls floating in the air that were apparently signs of her health, and of the baby's condition.

            "It seems you are about two months along." Harry nodded in silence. He remembered that that was the second or third to the last time they had been...intimate together before Ginny had gone to Montreal. "Still too early to tell the sex, of course. But I'm happy to report that he or she is perfectly healthy."

            "However," and at this she looked more matronly and strict, "I would heavily advise you, Ginny, to limit your training for this pregnancy." At Ginny's move to speak, Rosewood cut her off immediately. "Your first pregnancy was fine, but this one... the diagnostic spells indicate a highly fluctuating magical core. It would be dangerous for you to be out and about after you are past the sixth month mark. I recall telling young Mrs. Weasley to stay home for her entire pregnancy for Rose, but since you're in much better health, I can professionally vouch for you after month number six. Until then, I would still advise you to take it easy on the aggressive flying."

            "So... anything else wrong with, er, her magic?" Harry inquired curiously.

            "Apart from the odd fluctuations, she hasn't had any serious malfunction. However, it was enough to cause a disturbance in the contraceptive charms so it might be better to monitor this progressively. I would appreciate if you could come in regularly for checkups."

            "We'll talk about it later," Harry whispered to Ginny discreetly when he felt her grumbling. "We have a lot to talk about but not here and not now."

            She nodded in agreement and turned back to their Healer. "Will I be allowed to go back to Montreal? I need to be there for the remainder of the month, and then back here to Britain."

            "I will allow it. But I will have you officially grounded for medical reasons after your fourth month, and request for a maternity leave after the sixth month, as I've mentioned earlier."

            "So I can still attend training, just not fly, after I come back from Montreal?"

            "Are you serious?" Harry gritted between his teeth. "Really?!"

            "What!" Ginny said defensively. "I'm asking for Helen's professional advice."

            "And I want you to follow it," Rosewood said sternly, glaring a bit at Ginny. "I was far lenient for your first child, Ginny, but now that you have almost the same risks and circumstances as Hermione's pregnancy with Hugo, I'm placing you in similar restrictions."

            When Harry gave her a smug look, Ginny grumbled some more. "At least I can fly for the rest of Montreal," she said consolingly to herself.

            "I know this is also personal, and I would not deign to impose on your privacy, but we are all intent on keeping your baby perfectly healthy and to deliver him or her with the least amount of complications. I need both of you to be more careful."

           

***

 

            "I can't believe I'll be grounded in four weeks," Ginny mumbled into Harry's shoulder. They had just Apparated from St. Mungo's, both collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion.

            "Are you kidding me right now?" Harry frowned. "You're seriously more upset about being grounded than about the fact that we're having our second kid and we're not even ready?"

            "We can handle it, Harry," she said comfortingly, her hand squeezing his arm gently. "We've always been able to go with whatever Fate throws our way, right?"

            Harry let out a shaky breath and turned to face her. His expression was cool. "Ginny. Honestly. I am fucking sick of being Fate's plaything. I am absolutely tired of having to just accept whatever the fuck is thrown at me, I hate that my major life decisions are never true choices, but are just whatever is left over. This is NOT how I expected the rest of my life to be, and goddamnit I want it to just be fucking normal for once and not have some twist of fate turn everything upside down every time I think it's all fine!"

            Ginny hadn't expected such an outburst, and stared at him in shock. "But - but we can still -"

            "What, Ginny? What?" Harry demanded. "I don't know about you, but I didn't envision my future to include two children who barely see their mum because she's off representing the country. Oh, I'm sure they'll be proud of you," he added when her expression turned hard, "but honestly, is that the future you saw for yourself? To have kids and be away from them most of the time?"

            When Ginny remained quiet as if to formulate her argument, Harry melted into the couch feeling helpless. "What do you even want, Gin?" he asked softly, weakly. He felt defeated. "Be honest. Do you still even want to marry me? Do you want to be with me? Do you want this for the rest of your life?"

            Ginny looked at him, her expression unreadable. "I did want that. I still do. It's just... getting pregnant so early wasn't really on our plans, was it?" Harry snorted. "And now this," she said, indicating her stomach. "I just... I'm not sure about how I feel. I don't feel bad that we're having a second child, but..."

            "You still want to go after your dreams, I know," Harry said quietly. "I understand that, Gin, I really do. Even at the worst times, when I miss you terribly, I try my best to understand. But I'm really starting to think that we're working too hard on this, and I don't believe we're working towards the same future anymore."

            "Harry..."

            "Tell me how you see yourself a year from now. Two years from now. Five years. Tell me, now, the first thing that comes to mind."

            "Chasing for the Harpies. Going to the World Cup. Winning," she replied sadly, guiltily. "I know we used to talk about this before, Harry, even when we were back at Hogwarts. Before our engagement-"

            "Our highly extended engagement, yes," Harry huffed.

            "-but we did it all backwards, didn't we?" Ginny asked rhetorically. "We were supposed to settle down after we were both satisfied, and just ready. But James happened, and..."

            "Now this," Harry sighed. "Are we ready for another kid, Gin?"

            When her eyes began to sparkle with tears, she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Harry was surprised. Ginny never cried when she was sad. Only when she was joyous or angry. Perhaps there was always a time for firsts.

            "We really need to talk about this," he said heavily.

            "Are you taking about getting married again?" Ginny asked shyly. "Because-"

            "Ginny, honestly, I don't see that happening anymore."

            "Harry-"

            "Do you want to marry me, right now, at this very moment, do you love me enough to just say yes happily with all your heart?"

            Ginny's tears became even worse, and she started sobbing and buried her face in his chest. He placed his arms gently around her, soothing her.

            "I don't know what happened to us, Harry," she cried, tears soaking into his shirt. "Why do you think this happened? I thought we would be so happy together! We used to be so happy!"

            "I think..." Harry took a deep breath. "I think it's because we still had some growing up to do... and having James forced us to do it too fast and... skip ahead. I think we outgrew ourselves, Ginny."

            She pulled away and blinked her tears out of her brown eyes. "I still love you Harry, I know that I do, but... maybe it's not the same kind of love that we wanted it to be," she said sadly.

            "I know," was all Harry could say. "I do still love you, you know. How could I not? You're such an amazing woman, and I know you've done your utmost best to be a great mother to James, too."

            She snorted at that. "Not good enough," she whispered.

            Harry shook his head and took her face gently in his hands. "This is a big deal, Ginny. I want it to be clear to you that I am not blaming you for anything. I don't think our problems are truly our fault. It's... a complicated mess... but I don't blame you. It's very important for me to tell you that."

            Ginny nodded. "You're too good to be true, Harry Potter," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I beg to differ. I think we both somehow contributed, but I agree, any kind of blaming will only make things worse. I myself admit that I've a lot to make up for, but I'm willing to see how we can make this work, together, since I think we are agreeing that we might be better... not together."

            Harry just sighed.

            "I think... I think I was afraid to marry you," Ginny suddenly said softly, as if afraid to voice it out. "It's only recently that I've realized, I don't really like being tied down, to one person, or one place, or... I don't know. I feel... grounded. I didn't realize that until two days ago, when I found out..."

            She had explained to Harry via that first Floo call that she had been feeling sick and nauseous for a at least a couple weeks, and had seen a Healer in Montreal for food poisoning. She had invoked her privacy wards as had become habit for her and Harry, but since her wards apparently failed, she was seen finally walking out of the Maternity department of the local healing center. It explained her harrassed look, trying to get away from the reporters and photographers. Harry had explained to her later on why her wards might have failed, which only made her feel worse.

            "You think the wards failing are a sign?" she asked suddenly. When Harry shrugged, she looked back down at the carpet and stared at it. She was no longer crying, but her eyes were red. "It makes sense when you look at it from a larger perspective," she mused. "If our... emotional connection isn't even in sync anymore, our relationship must be under tremendous stress. Our magic must be trying to satisfy the engagement bonds and failing miserably because we haven't been satisfying the unspoken rules of old magic..."

            Harry tried to follow her train of thought. "You're taking this awfully well," he said with a frown. "I was afraid of confronting you about this, you know."

            She merely gave a small shrug. "When you grow up in the magical world with a deep understanding of old laws, you kind of have it drilled to your head that when magic tries to tell you something, you should follow it. We were engaged, and while we didn't have a pureblood betrothal contract, I guess the oldest forms of magical binding were still applicable. I'm guessing we pretty much failed that test, if the lack of cooperation between our magical cores was enough to pull down even the _Solum Sanctuarii._ "

            "That, and our second little gremlin probably helped things along too," Harry joked, poking lightly at her stomach.

            Then more seriously, he looked her straight in the eye. "So...What now?"

 

***

 

            Ron and Hermione had not, as Harry expected, started screaming at him. However, both of his best friends were rendered speechless for quite a while, and he merely spent their confused silence, patiently waiting.

            Finally, after a good few minutes, Hermione tentatively broke the quiet. "So... that's it?" she asked apprehensively. "The two of you just... agreed to break the engagement. Just like that."

            Harry had honestly expected an outburst from Hermione, recalling that she had only recently been defending Ginny's ambitions. He did not at all expect her to be so composed and supportive (as much as she could, given that Harry knew she must have been against the final choice he and Ginny had made.)

            "That's right," he nodded. "You know the funny thing? We were totally fine by it. To be honest, I'm not sure if I should be happy that it didn't blow up, or just pathetic because neither of us even wanted to fight for our relationship anymore."

            Ron seemed to react to this intimate admission, and he grimaced. "Mate," he began, though he appeared to be having trouble getting his words out. "I'm... I'm really sorry it all came down to this..."

            "Seriously?" Harry suddenly said, surprise evident on his face. "You guys aren't... angry or mad or something at me?"

            Hermione let out a very long sigh. "Harry... after everything you've told us in the last few months... well, it's a bit hard to ignore all the issues that have apparently crept up on you and piled up over the years. It just seems... I don't know, such a waste," she hazarded, but Harry seemed to be open enough to at least her own opinions on the matter. How very mature they had all become. "But if you think it's better this way, well, only you and she can be a judge of that."

            "Neither of you even stopped for a second to ask yourselves if maybe it was still... salvageable?" Ron offered, perhaps still holding out for the best possible outcome. He deflated though when Harry shook his head.

            "I told you, we've tried, time and again, but it just didn't work anymore," the brunet said evenly, though with a slight hitch in his voice that the other two failed to notice, or just pretended not to. "We both looked closely at where we are now, what we used to want together, and where we want to be eventually. Looks like the way our relationship developed over the last couple years has helped us to grow and find our way, but we have ended up on different paths, I guess. That's the best way I can kind of explain it."

            "That bad?" Ron asked with a grimace.

            "Well, let me put it this way. The only common things we had in our vision of the future was James. Not so much of each other," he clarified bitterly.

            Hermione's eyes started to fill with tears one again, the third time since he had started explaining the whole situation to them.

            "Don't, Hermione," he pleaded. "Please, I want both of you to just... leave this to me and Ginny for now, and to understand that the two of us do agree that while we do love each other deeply, it is not the same kind of relationship we once dreamed of together."

            "That's really sad though," Hermione sniffled, her cheeks shining with unchecked tears.

            "I know," Harry said. "But it could've gone on for longer and just made us even more miserable."

            "So she's back at Canada now?" Ron asked.

            "Yeah. We had to explain our... our change in plan to Odair, but he didn't give any indication that he cared much about the actual problem. I did appreciate that he was very professional about it," he mused.

            "So..." Ron cocked his head, deep in thought. "You guys are going through the same motions for this pregnancy? I mean, her going to training during the day and coming back here?"

            "Nah, Helen told her she's too magically unstable to go through any means of magical transportation regularly. And she can fly, but she can't be expected to fly cross country every day. So, she'll stay in Montreal for the remaining weeks then come back and stay full time training in the Harpies stadium." When Ron raised an eyebrow, Harry just shrugged. "What?" he asked, "It'll be like when we were still just dating and she would come over once or twice a month just to hang out with me."

            "Yeah, but having James in the picture... it's just... I'm sorry Harry, I just can't help but be a bit sad for Jamie, and he's still so young and impressionable."

            "She'll be away from you again," Hermione pretty much bawled out at this point. "It's sad! It's not meant to be like this!"

            "What if it was meant to end this way, though?" Harry suddenly suggested. "What if, we were meant to have a failed relationship in order to help both of us grow more on our own? Maybe we needed that to happen?"

            "What do you mean?" Ron asked, perplexed. "How could this ever be a good thing?!"

            Harry sighed. "Honestly? I think we were both too naive and idealistic after the war. I can't speak for her, but I'm only now starting to realize how... well how much I needed to figure out on my own before diving into the idea of having a family."

            "You seemed so ready, though," Hermione said.

            "Yeah, but I guess we were more ready to _start_ it, not really ready _for_ it, if that makes sense," Harry said. "How do I put it? I mean, we never even really thought about how we would really treat parenthood, you know? It sounds kind of sick, but I guess it was like we felt ready for a family, but we were only really thinking like we were preparing to get a _pet_. I think making those kinds of decisions, you know, having kids, settling down, it needs more than just love or compatibility. It needs two people who already know what they want and are sure that they can and _will_ work together towards the same goals. Goals that are concrete and tangible, not arbitrary."

            He fell into a pensive silence.

            "I can understand that sentiment," Hermione said. "Look at me and Ron, when we had Hugo it also changed our dynamic, and we did have to grow up and be more mature about our life together. I guess though, that we were more prepared for the whole family thing that you and Ginny were."

            "That's true," Ron said. "I mean, being a Weasley kind of hardwires us Weasley men about what it means to really run a family. Anyways, I always thought Mum coddled Ginny because she was hte youngest and the only girl. I think that's what led to Ginny wanting to prove herself to be much more than just a girl, you know?"

            Harry snorted in amusement. "Yeah. Sneaking out and breaking into the broom shed just to learn Quidditch on her own. Even when she was going out with her old boyfriends at Hogwarts, she was always the opposite of the girly girl, and I don't think they could handle that," he laughed when he remembered her fiery attitude when it came to dating at such an early age.

            "In that case, I can understand why she might not prioritize the concept of running a family over her own ambitions. If she's spent most of her life trying to be more than the archetype of the 'Weasley Matriarch', then it's probably subconscious behavior by now," Hermione posited. "We were very close, but she was never outright or direct or aggressive about her desire to prioritize Quidditch over anything else. So I don't think her way of handling these issues are really a conscious decision."

            "She's spent her life wanting to be able to take care of herself," Harry said. "I was fine with that. I needed to do that for myself, too. But yeah, I guess she was working hard to not be the next Molly Weasley."

            "As if that's a bad thing," Ron harrumphed. Hermione sighed.

            "Ron, all Harry means is it's not what every woman wants. Being a dedicated housewife and matriarch is a very honorable and difficult decision to make, and look how happy Molly's been with how you all turned out," she said, smiling. "Look at me, I'm perfectly happy balancing our family life with a career, and it suits us just fine. Everyone has their own way of handling things."

            "She's right," Harry agreed. "When Ginny and I talked, she told me that she realized only very recently that she might not have the right kind of mindset to really be like Molly. I reminded her that I wasn't expecting her to be all domestic and trapped at home to do all the housework, you know? And she said she knew that, but that even with a career and everything, she would still feel grounded."

            "Grounded... figuratively? Like in Muggle terms?" Hermione asked.

            "No, in literal terms," Harry answered. "She hates being grounded from flight, and the same thing goes for the rest of her life. And I can see that. The reason she has been happy Chasing for the Harpies is because she really feels happiest when she is in the air and pushing a team towards victory. There's a fire in her that won't ever become satisfied if it had to be kept down. And being with me kind of does that now."

            "She should have realized that before accepting your proposal, way before you guys had James," Ron said grumpily.

            "She should have," Harry agreed. "But she didn't. Neither did I, if you recall. Like I said, we didn't realize that we needed to really grow into ourselves on our own first. We didn't. i think we both acted on impulse, we both had our own reasons to prove ourselves. And... Now we're here, and we've agreed that we won't regret any of it, or blame each other for our disillusioned choices after the war."

            "So... what now?" Ron asked hesitantly. Harry couldn't help but smirk at the wording, very similar to his last talk with Ginny.

            "Don't tell anyone, first," he said seriously. He knew his two best friends would respect his privacy anyway. "Not even the family," he told Ron. "It's something that has to come straight from me and Ginny."

            Hermione nodded in agreement. Ron laughed hollowly. "Good luck with that, mate," he said in sympathy.

            "When do you plan to tell them?" Hermione asked.

            "Erm..." Harry fidgeted. "We were hoping to explain it when we tell them about the pregnancy..."

            "Oh Merlin!" Ron lamented. "Just the irony of it will drive mum and dad mental! ' _Hey everyone! Ginny and I are having our second baby! But also, we're breaking up_!' What a memorable moment that family meeting will be!"

            "Ugh, don't remind me," Harry said, putting his forehead on the table in defeat. "I'm absolutely not looking forward to it, and neither is Ginny."

            "It's your responsibility, though," Hermione admonished, sounding like her old prefect self.

            "I know, Herm," Harry said, looking back up so he could meet her eyes. "I just hope they... don't take it too badly."

            "We'll have your back," Ron said very seriously. "A couple of _Protego_ 's should be fine."

            Hermione laughed evilly. They all knew what it meant to be in front of Molly's wand. They all knew what it did to a certain Bellatrix Lestrange, after all.

            Harry slumped his head onto the table again, groaning. He was definitely not looking forward to that family meeting.

 

 

 


	23. A Trio Plus One

**(Present, 2006)**  

          Harry and Ginny had taken Healer Rosewood's precautions seriously, but both of them were still quite shocked when Ginny had to be rushed immediately to St. Mungo's just shy of seven months into her pregnancy, face scrunched in pain and hand grasping painfully at Harry's arm. The sudden burst of adrenaline did absolutely nothing for Harry's nerves when she was levitated into one of the warded rooms, so he sat outside, trying and failing to pretend that he was in control of himself. Because he pretty much wasn't.

          He was sure that both Ron and Hermione had received his frantic message through his Patronus, but he had the common sense to realize that both of them would probably need at least a few minutes before they could drop their current responsibilities and visit. As for Malfoy, Harry had sent Hedwig with a quick note since, unlike with Ron and Hermione, he wasn't sure the blond would be open to the sudden barging of a silver stag into his privacy. Nor did he think he would appreciate any sort of urgency - as far as Harry knew, Malfoy wouldn't care so much about his personal problems.

          Molly and Arthur, of course, were already on their way as they had been personally contacted by Harry through the emergency Floo at St. Mungo's, which left Harry just a few minutes to himself, feeling even more nervous as each second ticked by.

          The last few months had not been easy for any of them, he reflected somewhat bitterly.

          As Ron had predicted, it had been quite difficult to juxtapose the good news of a new baby and the terrible news of breaking an engagement, but it had to happen, and it did. Confronting Molly and Arthur was perhaps the greatest challenge Harry had ever had to face that year, but he and Ginny had reminded each other that this was their family, and that they would eventually come to their senses no matter how long it might take. Weasleys, apparently, held no grudges.

          Molly, however, became cool and silent towards the both of them for at least a month after the big announcement. It was painful for Harry, who had never had the experience of having a mother who would react such a way, but Ginny had assured him that she had survived at least twenty instances of Molly giving her the cold shoulder for something she had done as a child. Harry did not feel better.

          It was ultimately George who had brought Molly back to them when, three months into the pregnancy, he came home to the Burrow for their usual family lunch and presented Harry with the tiniest pair of socks and a matching baby bonnet, both in a festive purple and orange design with the ostentatious WWW logo.

          "Been working on these for a while now," he had said brightly. "Instantly warms up when it's needed, and the charm is child-safe and everything." He gave a brilliant smile as Ginny excitedly took the knitwear and cooed over it. "Glad to have a new baby Weasley to give them to now!"

          At the tender exchange, which Molly had inadvertently witnessed from the kitchen door, the matriarch had broken into tearful sobs. "Oh, those just won't do!" she lamented, "The baby will need much more than just a cap and socks!"

          And she had hugged her daughter and Harry very tightly, spilling over her happy tears onto their shoulders. They didn't mind in the slightest.

          Not that the entire situation had been solved in the blink of an eye, of course. The entire family was still at odds at how Harry and Ginny would be able to handle their now family of four while not being together. It was something that Arthur had reminded everyone was between Harry and Ginny, and that it was no one else's business. Add to that the fact that it had to be kept from the public again.

          After those tension-filled months, however, it was pretty much just a waiting game till their little boy's birth.

          Which Harry had expected to be in another two months. Just his luck.

          The thought brought back his nerves, and he kept pacing, probably running the floor thin with each step, but he couldn't care less.

         

***

 

          Hermione likely had no idea what it meant, but Draco was pretty sure that never, _never_ in the entire existence of the Malfoy Manor, had there ever been a _Muggleborn_ in any of its Floos. A Muggleborn married to a blood-traitor, no less.

          He had opened up his Floo access to the trio a few months back since it was a much easier way for them to communicate, but this was the first time that a house elf had popped him immediately to the fire to answer, saying that a Mrs. Weasley had insisted it was an urgent call. He could almost feel every single Malfoy ancestor shiver in their graves, which made him greet Hermione even more warmly that he would initially have.

          "How are you? Why the urgent call?" he asked after she hastily returned his greeting.

          "Have you received a message from Harry?" she asked breathlessly. When he nodded, her eyes seemed to widen. "Then you know what he must be going through right now."

          He frowned. All Potter's note had said was that they had to go to St. Mungo's, and that he would keep Draco posted, but there weren't any real details. Only now did he realize what Hermione's worried tone might mean.

          "Is he alright? Is Ginevra...?" Draco asked concernedly. Surely she wasn't due for another month or two?

          "I'm not sure, but given the tone of Harry's Patronus, he's likely wearing down the corridor at St. Mungo's by now. Haven't heard any updates about Ginny either, just that they had to rush her because she was in pain." She took a deep breath, probably to steady herself. "Thing is, neither Ron nor I can go there right now, though I think I can make it in an hour and Ron as early as four o'clock."

          "Then -"

          "Are you free to go to him?" she asked bluntly. "It's just... we know Harry and he won't be open or direct about it, but he really does need someone around when he's under stress like this...but I have to wait for approval to leave early and so does Ron."

          Draco felt his breath catch. Were they asking him, _him_ of all people, to lend his support?

          "Ah, Hermione, I'm not so sure he -"

          "Don't be silly," she admonished, while also rolling her eyes at him. "You're our friend, and I'm absolutely sure that having your apathetic, egotistical self by Harry's side will help to distract him."

          Draco raised an eyebrow at that. It had taken a while but Hermione had finally talked to him about the way that he and Potter kept at each other's throats all the time, and admitted that it probably did more good than she had thought before.

          "Well, I, ah..."

          "You can take Astoria, too, if she wants to come. And maybe Scorpius?"

          Draco shook his head. "She's attending a ministry function in France this week, and my mother has taken Scorpius for the day."

          "Will you come, then?"

          The question, so plain and simple, caused a disproportionately heavy feeling in Draco's stomach. Finally steeling himself, he nodded. "Yes, I'll be there shortly."

          He was surprised when Hermione's eyes shone with tears but her smile seemed to become even bigger and warmer. "Thank you, Draco, oh thank you, we'll owe you for this!"

          Her reaction made Draco wonder silently, if this was what it felt like to be needed and wanted in someone's life that a simple agreement to show up meant everything to them.

          As he said his goodbyes and reassurances to the sobbing brunette and eventually closed his Floo, Draco's mind was filled with a mix of emotions. There was a bit of trepidation, some anxiety and a handful of relief, and even a sense of responsibility at being depended upon. And a hint of happiness as well. A sense of urgency. It appeared that he couldn't wait until he could finally show Potter that he could be a good friend, too.

          And that he, Draco, couldn't wait to be there for him.

         

***

 

          "How are you holding up, son?"

          Harry looked up to his almost-father-in-law-but-also-practically-his-father-anyway. They hadn't even been there for more than half an hour, but it already felt like he had been pacing for an eternity. He tried to smile, but his heart wasn't in it and it came out as a wonky sort of smirk.

          "Any news?" he asked hopefully. Given that he didn't really have spousal privileges (he thought of this with a lot of bitterness), he had to depend on either Arthur or Molly for Ginny's medical updates.

          The balding redhead shook his head and gave his own version of a weak smile. "Yes, but nothing too detailed yet," he said in a placating tone. "It might please you to know, though, that Healer Rosewood informed the other members of her team that you are to be treated as Ginny's next of kin alongside us, despite your not officially being married to her."

          Harry couldn't help but let out a long-held breath. He really owed Helen for that. Big time. St. Mungo's was a stickler for rules and regulations, and being allowed access to Ginny's medical status was something of a privilege, even for the Savior.

          The news still didn't distract Harry, however, from the intense feelings of concern that were eating away at his stomach.

          "How's Gin?" he asked, eyebrows scrunched in obvious apprehension. "How's -"

          Arthur gently patted him on the back. "They say that she and the baby are stable for now, they're sure of that, at least."

          "But?" Harry knew in his heart that there was a 'but'. There always was.

          "Helen thinks... the pregnancy might be too unstable at this point, and that Ginny might go into labor any time soon. No guarantee yet of what that might mean..."

          Putting his face in his hands, Harry finally let out his frustrations and fell to sobbing into his palms. He felt his shoulders shake beyond his control, but he couldn't care less at this point. The worry he felt for both Ginny and their child was reaching a plateau and he had no idea how to process any of the emotions he was feeling. Everything seemed tight and stretched to the limit, and Harry felt as if everything holding him together was at the brink of snapping and pulling him apart.

          "I'm sure they'll be fine," Arthur murmured reassuringly, but it sounded empty to Harry. All he wanted was for Ginny and the baby to be alright, to come out of this safe and sound, but he couldn't even be assured of that yet, not at the rate the Healers were going.

          "Potter."

          The unexpected voice broke into Harry's moment of sorrow. It sounded as if... but it couldn't be... He wouldn't...

          "Draco," Harry heard Arthur say politely, which gave him enough motivation to lift his head and find out if he was hallucinating or not.

          Draco Malfoy was standing a few meters from them, as if he was wary of approaching. He didn't seem like a hallucination brought on by stress, and the realization made Harry suddenly break out of his haze.

          "Malfoy!" he cried, sure that his surprise was evident on his expression. "What are you doing here?!"

          "Offering my support as a friend, of course," the blond answered.

          The trademark smirk was there, but Harry thought he seemed self-conscious.

          "Er..." He had no idea what to say, given that he had just literally broken down in tears and was interrupted by an archenemy-turned-mate. "Why?" he asked hesitantly.

          Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly, an action that was now so familiar that Harry found himself somewhat grounded. "Hermione seemed to think you needed my, and I quote, _apathetic and egotistical self,_ as a distraction until they got here."

          Despite the obvious tear tracks on his face and the likelihood of a splotchy complexion from his bout of sobbing into his hands, Harry felt the corners of his lips turn slightly upwards. Hermione was right, Malfoy's presence was a pretty big distraction, and it was a welcome bit of amusement in the midst of a potential medical crisis.

          "So, Ron and Hermione couldn't get here immediately... and they sent you to cover for them and keep me company?"

          When Malfoy nodded sagely, Harry suppressed a chuckle. "Imagine that."

          "Was it an exercise in futility, then?" Malfoy asked defensively.

          "Oh, no, it's not, um... I'm glad you're here," Harry appeased, shaking his head and wiping his eyes quickly with the back of his hand as he turned more to face Malfoy. He gestured his free hand towards the seat next to him, indicating to Malfoy that he could take a seat.

          He sat, expecting a reply, or at least a biting remark, but Malfoy just looked at him with a raised brow.

          "Sorry, it's just... you came at the precise moment that I pretty much fell apart," Harry apologized, slumping back into his seat with a bit of embarrassment. He didn't want Malfoy to think he couldn't handle things. When he looked back at him though, there was nothing but a thoughtful expression on the man's face.

          It was only then that Harry remembered that Arthur was still with them. He shifted to look at the man and was surprised to see him smiling warmly at Malfoy.

          "I'll just go and check in with Molly," his pseudo-dad said, clapping Harry on the back again. "You two go ahead and take a break. Go for a walk. Have some coffee. It'll help," he added to Harry insistently when he was about to protest.

          Harry nodded in defeat - Arthur was still his elder - so he shook himself and felt as if he was coming back to his senses again for the first time that day. He hadn't realized how numb he had become to the rest of the world while he was stuck in his cocoon of worry.

          He also, most definitely, hadn't realized how much better he now felt with the new company he had by his side.

 

***

 

          Draco was in the uncomfortable position of having been privy to the so-called break down of the great Harry Potter. His old self would have rejoiced in the opportunity and catalogued the memory to sell to the highest bidder, but now... now he just understood that Potter felt like shit and he needed something, anything, anyone to bring him out of his downward spiral.

          Was it odd that Draco wanted to be the one to do that?

          "You may now commence your interrupted moment of emotional expression," he said quietly to the brunet next to him, who was obviously still trying to wipe away tear tracks, before jabbing an elbow into his friend's chest. "What? You deserve to go crazy considering your fiancée is in the middle of a medical situation. No one can fault you for that."

          "No offence, Malfoy, but you're not exactly someone I'd want to see me broken apart in uncontrollable tears."

          Draco looked at Potter seriously. "That bad, eh?"

          For several seconds, the man was silent, but then gave out a shaky breath.

          "I hate this," the Auror whispered, which to Draco sounded as if he were admitting defeat. "I hate just...just sitting here, not knowing whatever's going on... I hate being useless, unable to even do anything..."

          "If memory serves, you weren't exactly just sitting, nor were you the slightest bit useless. Look, you've even managed to polish this part of the marble to a terrific sheen, and only with your shoes. Job well done."

          "Oh shut up," Potter huffed, but Draco knew he was merely embarrassed. And he shouldn't be.

          "No need to feel shy about it, Potter," he said gently. Then he remembered himself and went back to the usual Malfoy-speak in an effort to get to Potter better. "You merely require ample distraction," he started haughtily, "I'm sure if you asked any of the mediwitches here, they'd regale you with the wonderful story of my absolute calm and level-headedness during Scorpius' birth."

          Potter quirked an eyebrow in mildly disguised interest, a reaction that Draco had been aiming for. "You - you were really calm and level-headed?"

          Draco laughed.

          "Fuck no!" he swore uncharacteristically. "Even my mother had to step in when all the other Healers were complaining about my ceaseless pacing and hovering. Not to mention all the choice adjectives I kept throwing at the staff," he reminisced thoughtfully. "I think I even succeeded at making one of the witches cry..."

          The idea seemed to relax Potter a bit; his shoulders were no longer held as stiffly as earlier. In fact, there was a hint of a laugh in Potter's eyes despite the slight frown still on his features. However, he didn't seem to have much to add, or perhaps he had lost the motivation to speak in sentences, so Draco decided to move the conversation onwards.

          "Funny you're acting this way, actually," he mused in a curious tone. "Considering you've had a child before already. Surely you know what to expect by now?"

          Potter merely shook his head. "James' delivery was so easy, there was barely anything to worry about. Complete opposite of this. Ginny didn't even have much trouble, she told me. But this... it's not what...I'm pretty fucking terrified."

          Draco felt a tug at his heartstrings at Potter's concern. "What happened anyway? Not like you explained it to me in detail via owl."

          "Sorry," Potter offered with a weak smile. "I was sort of in a hurry when I sent you that owl. But evidently, your messenger was more effective than my Patronus messages to Ron and Hermione. Go figure."

          Draco felt a little indignant when he realized that he had only gotten an owl. Didn't he get the intimate privilege of a personal Patronus message, too?

          He cleared his throat imperiously. "Might I remind you that I am only here on behalf of one Granger/Weasley, seeing as _I_ didn't even merit a proper Patronus call." He gave an exaggerated harrumph and dramatically turned his nose up for added effect.

          Potter theatrically rolled his eyes. "I just didn't think you'd appreciate having a great big stag barge into your private residence crying out the woes of Harry Potter..."

          "I wouldn't have minded," Draco said somewhat more seriously than he had intended. He hoped to Merlin he didn't sound wounded. Malfoy egos were not supposed to be easily bruised after all. Not that his was, of course. He was just annoyed. That was it. "Anyway, you digress."

          "Oh, er, yeah. Well, we pretty much woke up alarmed because Ginny was in terrible pain and... We both got scared because she's got a pretty high tolerance for pain. Possibly more than Ron, in fact-"

          The little attempt at a joke made Draco relax a bit as well, since he at least got Potter to resurrect his humor.

          "-And now the Healers say they've stabilized her, whatever that means, but then she might have the baby soon, which is two months too early, and I can't help but worry for her safety, and the baby's as well, I mean, aren't babies supposed to keep developing 'til the full term? Merlin, there's so much that can go wrong if we have the baby too early, and Ginny's probably having a hard time, too, and there's nothing I can really do to help at this point and I hate feeling absolutely useless and - I'm sorry, I'm rambling, aren’t' I?"

          Their eyes met, and Draco could see that Potter truly was feeling guilty. Which was ridiculous, of course.

          "Don't apologize," he said sternly. "I've already come here prepared to play the part of loyal and supportive friend, which I intend to pull off with flying colors. That includes being a good listener to your whinging. Now, before we continue this little bonding session, why don't we actually go somewhere? Didn't you promise Arthur Weasley you'd go and take a break?"

          "This is a decent enough break," Potter said, shrugging. "It's a sight better than my situation before you got here, anyway."

          "I happen to think you still need coffee," Draco countered. He didn't explain that it was he who really needed the kick of caffeine to make sure that none of this was a dream.

          "I don't need-"

          "Coffee. Now." Draco stood imperiously and began walking away. He paused to look over his shoulder to see the brunet looking at him incredulously. "What are you waiting for? Quickly now, chop chop!"

          To his amusement, Potter seemed to resign himself to his new companion, and finally got up to follow him.

          At the far end of the corridor, he saw the elder Weasley throw him a thankful look, and Draco nodded before turning back and heading to the nearest cafe, a confused-looking Potter in tow.

         

***

 

          "Thank you."

          Draco could do nothing but stare at the serious brunet in front of him. "For what?" he asked confusedly.

          "For this," Potter replied calmly.

          Draco snorted. "Wow, that explained everything," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

          "I mean, you know, for - for this -" Potter stammered, waving his free hand significantly in the air between the two of them.

          "Yes, Potter, your visually graceful mastery of limbs really adds to my telepathic comprehension of your unspoken thoughts."

          The Auror growled under his breath in apparent frustration, which Draco secretly relished, considering he had once again aimed for it on purpose. He loved getting under his former nemesis' skin, no matter how trivial it may have sounded.

          "Nevermind!" Potter huffed, which made Draco laugh out loud at his expense.

          "Relax, Golden Boy, no need to get your knickers in a twist," he chided, trying to keep his tone lighter and a tad more pleasant than if he had been joking with a Slytherin. One thing he had learned over the last year was that Gryffindors always took things at face value. "I was trying to rile you up, of course, and you responded beautifully. And anyway, there isn't really a need to thank me for anything, no matter what you think. I haven't done you any real favors today."

          Which of course, he knew wasn't exactly the truth, but if he were honest with himself, he could even admit that he had rather enjoyed the last hour being Potter's emotional crutch. _Oh, how far he had fallen,_ Draco mused to himself.

          Turning his attention back to his companion, he asked, "Feeling any better yet?"

          The brunet nodded, and there was no sign of having been offended by the conversation not more than a minute ago. "I meant it, you know," he seemed to insist. "I wanted to thank you for... for just being here. I guess I never knew how much I'd been relying on Ron and Hermione in times of, er, crises, until I had to make do with you - wait, that came out wrong," he added hastily, laughing.

          "Well, _that_ most certainly gives me enough incentive to never do this again," Draco retorted with a signature smirk.

          Potter, perhaps seeing the familiar expression on his face, seemed to liven even more, which Draco hoped meant that he knew it was all in jest. Hard to say with a Gryff, really.

          "I was being all serious..." Potter said defensively, finally finishing his last gulp of mediocre coffee. He looked intently at Draco, which made the latter feel vulnerable, his hands clenched (he had finished his coffee a few minutes earlier, which left him little else to do with his hands). "I appreciate you being here. I meant what I said."

          "And I meant what I said, too," Draco countered lightly. "I repeat. No need for thanks of any kind. Anyway, you were the one who bloody drilled all these ridiculous friend rules into my head."

          This time, Potter laughed, slightly more heartily now. It made Draco's heart flutter less, if he was apparently able to siphon off Potter's angry tendencies without having to try too hard. In fact, just being with Potter was getting easier and easier with each passing day. Who would have thought that having the shared experience of drinking subpar coffee in the middle of a medical crisis could bring the two most unlikely mates together?

 

***

 

          Once again, Harry thought amusedly to himself, Draco Malfoy somehow saved the day. It wasn't something he would readily admit to, but over the last few months, he had really gotten used to having the man as an outlet for the kind of conversations he could neither expect nor ever ask for from Ron and Hermione. Or anyone else, if her were being quite honest.

          Carved into the highly complicated and dramatic life story of Harry Potter was a tiny little corner dedicated to a vain and pretentious blond, wherein he could feel comfortable enough to discuss his fears, insecurities and pretty much every other thing that could have been potentially embarrassing to mention to other people.

          How Draco Malfoy could ever provide such a solid sense emotional comfort, no one would ever know. But Harry had learned never to question it - gift horse and all that jazz. They still spent around ninety percent of their time together just on competitive and insulting banter, and they both thrived in it. It was really part of who they were.

          And anyway, it just felt natural, or at least Harry thought it did. And he wasn't about to give up one of the few things that he could count on to lift his mood on bad days.

          And this counted as pretty bad.

          "I bet you aren't even listening anymore, are you?" a sarcastic voice whined, bringing Harry's attention back to the prat in front of him. "Dear Merlin, Potter, I thought caffeine was supposed to make your senses sharper."

          "I was just... lots of thinking going on under this rat's nest." Harry indicated his own head with a wry smile that was immediately returned by Malfoy.

          "I was joking," Malfoy sighed dramatically. "I swear, I haven't had to be this sensitive and nice and warm and fuzzy for someone in years."

          Harry quirked up an eyebrow in curiosity. "How do Slytherins ever survive through the concept of friendship with the way you lot handle things? It's like all of you are straight laced and just... aloof. Like, no hugs and kisses, no friendly banter, just always watching out for yourself, even from your so-called friends..."

          "It's all about necessity. You support yourself and your friends by forming connections, perhaps even close relationships. But mostly, being Slytherin is all about the stakes, Potter. How to stack them, and how to use them wisely to your advantage." There was a sharp gleam in Malfoy's eye, which made Harry wonder exactly how different the Slytherin formative years were if they all needed to watch their own backs at every second in the Snake Pit.

          "Well, thank you then for the warm and fuzzy version of your friendship," he quipped lightly, and was promptly surprised at the slight frown on Malfoy's face at his words. "What?"

          "I told you already, there's no need to thank me," the blond said, somewhat impatiently. "And your coffee's obviously done. Any plans on heading back soon?"

          Harry gave out an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. Spending time with Malfoy also meant going with the flow. Which meant going with whatever Malfoy judged best. Ironically enough, they both had realized that Harry and Ron made terrible decisions all the time, and that Malfoy could be trusted to actually make the right call for a number of situations. The man was bossy and prissy, but he knew what he was doing more half the time.

          Also, Harry made all sorts of reasons just so he didn't have to acknowledge that he liked Malfoy telling him what to do and how to do things. Because it wasn't true. Not at all.

          As they walked in companionable silence towards the waiting area nearest Ginny's room, Harry fell once again into his tumultuous thoughts.

         

          Their hour at the cafe earlier had been filled with Harry's overflowing river of worry and frustration, which Malfoy had taken in stride. He made the proper disgruntled noises at the right times, and even included some choice insults that were like music to Harry's ears. For some reason, the aloof, apathetic, egotistic friend he had in Malfoy was actually enough to distract and de-stress him.

          Malfoy never judged him. He kept his tongue sharp and his wits even sharper, but Harry could now appreciate that it all was part and parcel of his entire personality. And it was entertaining anyway. If he had spent this time with Ron or Hermione, they would have smothered him to an early death with all the coddling and over-involvement. His words would always be taken literally, or taken too seriously. Ron understood dark humor sometimes, but Hermione had always insisted that her husband was 'enabling' Harry's self-deprecating moods, and therefore not helping. In contrast, Harry could rely on Malfoy's bittersweet perspective on their life as war survivors from opposite ends of the battle. He could depend on him to call him out of his dark moods without sounding like a nagging, coddling mother hen.

          Harry loved Hermione, but sometimes he just wanted to chuck Hogwarts, A History at her in retaliation - a passing comment that would have earned him a prolonged death glare from a certain redhead, but had in fact drawn out the longest laugh from Malfoy that he had ever heard. He found that he quite liked hearing the sound, and, as they turned into the hallway where Arthur and Molly were waiting for them, decided silently that it wouldn't hurt to try and make Malfoy laugh like that again.

          He had the ghost of a smile on his lips, and he had to admit that he was feeling much lighter, but that immediately Vanished when he saw the grim look etched on Arthur's face, and the lines of worry around Molly's eyes.

          "What is it?" he asked sharply, feeling as if his broomstick had been yanked out from under him while flying. All thoughts of the good morning he had shared with Malfoy were immediately replaced with the sting of reality. "Arthur? Molly? What did they say?"

          Molly inadvertently let out a small sob, which didn't help Harry at all. He turned to Arthur, hoping that the man could be relied on under pressure.

          The elder Weasley took a deep breath as if to steady himself. "We think it best that you hear from Healer Rosewood."

         

***

 

          "This is highly irregular, you should know," Helen Rosewood was saying gently. "Usually we have to keep the father outside but this kind of decision must be made by both parents. It's not something to just take for granted."

          Harry tried to keep his breathing steady. "Thank you so much for letting me come here," he said sincerely, grabbing Ginny's hand with both of his. "What do you think, Gin?"

          Ginny was pale and clammy, having spent the entire morning in bursts of pain. She still looked beautiful though, in Harry's opinion. Her blue eyes sought his, and held his gaze with an intensity that he knew he could only find in her.

          "I agree with Helen," she said, voice raspy. "I think we should induce the delivery."

          Harry nodded. He turned back to their Healer. "And you're sure that both Ginny and the baby will be safe if we do this as soon as possible?"

          The Healer nodded crisply. "The Healing team has unanimously agreed that Ginny's magical core is being detached from that of your baby's too fast and too soon. If she is to continue to full term, the magical bond with the baby could be severed completely and that would risk both of their lives.

          Unbidden to his mind, Harry recalled the unfortunate birth of Tom Riddle, whose mother had inexplicably died an hour after delivery. He didn't want that for Ginny or for their child.

          "This is a unique situation, but not uncommon. There have been precedents, and this type of delivery has been practiced successfully in the last decade."

          Harry nodded and grasped Ginny's had even tighter. She squeezed back, seeming to understand how he felt at the moment and perhaps needing him as well.

          "We trust you, Helen," Ginny said.

          "Please," Harry insisted somewhat desperately, "do everything that you can... just... just keep them safe." He turned back to Ginny, shifting his hold on her so that he could embrace her. "Stay safe, Gin. I'll have to be away from you but you know I'll do anything to get to your side if need be."

          Ginny laughed weakly. "I'm sure you could break down all the walls but let's hope it doesn't come to that. I'll be fine, and so will he," she gently slid her free hand across her belly. "We'll be fine. We're in good hands," she added with emphasis, indicating Rosewood.

          The Healer gave them a brilliant smile. "I appreciate the trust that you both grant me," she said humbly. "I assure you, Harry, that it's better to do this now that wait for further complications."

          Once again, Harry nodded his agreement, and gave one last squeeze to Ginny's shoulders before stepping away. "I'll see you soon, Ginny," he said. Goodbye seemed too finite to say in this situation, he thought.

          Ginny just gave him a huge grin. "Don't' underestimate me, Harry, I can handle anything."

 

***

 

          Draco could remember how he had been in the same position, waiting anxiously and alternating between sitting restlessly and pacing incessantly. Which Potter had been doing for the last two hours, driving both Hermione and Weasley mental.

          "Sit still," he advised as gently as he could, knowing that a whirlpool of emotions was currently tormenting his friend's heart.

          "She'll be fine, Harry," Hermione assured him. "I asked Helen about the magical theory behind the spells they're casting, and she said that it really takes this long to properly invoke the magic they need to safely sever the cores of Ginny and the baby."

          Potter nodded, but Draco noted that it was done almost mechanically. "I know, I know," the brunet said, sighing. "I just hope everything's alright."

          Weasley clapped him on the back. "Remember when this happened to me and Mione?" he asked. "Well, I'm returning the favor and telling you that Ginny is a strong horse and she'll make it out of this just fine."

          Draco was confused by the expression, but Potter just laughed. "As healthy as a horse, Ron," he corrected, but it still made no sense to Draco.

          "Anyway, it should be done sometime soon, I've been timing it," Hermione added. Draco suppressed a snort of amusement. Of course she would take this on a technical level.

          Potter let out another shaky breath and tried to lean back into his seat. He suddenly turned to face Draco with an expectant, almost hungry look in his eye. He said nothing, but the gesture made something inside Draco melt. There were no words, but it was clear as Veritaserum that Potter was looking for reassurance from him.

          "They'll be fine," he whispered, grabbing Potter's hand and squeezing it briefly for a second before letting go again. The change in Potter was almost instantaneous, the tension leaving his stiff shoulders. "Now sit still."

         

***

 

          As it was, Hermione's estimation was off only by a few minutes. By that time, Harry had settled down a little, now supporting a babbling James (hidden completely via _Solum Sanctuarii_ ) on his lap. The moment Healer Rosewood appeared to pull him away, Harry shot up and followed her, still holding his son and feeling both ecstatic and worried. Helen herself was a bit short of breath and looking paler.

          "It's just the magic drain," she said, perhaps knowing where Harry's thoughts had taken him. He bowed his head in embarrassment, but she continued. "They're ready to see you now."

          Harry looked up in shock. "They're... they're okay?" he asked meekly.

          The Healer, patient as ever, finally chuckled. "Why don't you see for yourself?"  
  


          Like last time, the walk into the birthing area seemed like a hazy dream, Harry's eyes trained only on fiery red hair. When he approached the bedside and saw her smiling radiantly, his heart felt like it had been released into the sky. He shifted James in his arms.

          "You're okay," he breathed gratefully, moving instantly to Ginny's side to put his arm around her and celebrate the face that she was alright.

          "Careful, you'll squeeze him," Ginny said amusedly, which brought Harry's thoughts back down. He pulled away slowly, not even daring to breathe.

          "He...He's -"

          "He's perfect," she said proudly, and shifted a part of the cloth in her arms, revealing the very tiny, very pink, and very dark-haired baby sleeping soundly. James wriggled in Harry's arms to inspect his new little brother with curiosity. Harry felt his throat tighten with emotion at the sight of his two beautiful children.

          "Albus..." he said, staring in wonder. He looked Ginny again, as if making sure that it was all real. Ginny nodded and Harry saw tears of joy in her eyes. She never cried when she was sad. Just always, always when she was happy.

          "Albus Severus," she whispered, and Harry's eyes both lit up and became very wet with tears at the same time. He remembered all the talks they had had over naming their second son, and this was one of the best gifts that he could ever think of.

          "Albus Severus," he whispered back reverently, moving closer to be able to hold them all in his arms.

          It was perfect, he thought.

          Not everything was the way he had planned, or expected, or even dreamed of... but right now, everything about their little family was perfect.

 

         

         

 


	24. Redefining Family

**(Present, 2007)**  

            "Da-aah! Wah - muh muh - ah! Daaaa!"

            There was no avoiding the completely besotted look from appearing on Draco Malfoy's face as he privately celebrated his son's increasing verbal prowess. Okay, perhaps he was being slightly biased, but he couldn't help but feel pride that Scorpius was already playing around with his vowels. Pretty soon, he would surely master the most basic of witty, sarcastic jibes just like his father.

            The little blond child's laughter and nonsense gibberish echoed around the room with renewed vigor as Draco bounced him playfully in his arms.

            "Playing with him again?"

            He turned around at the sound of his wife's voice. "It's hardly a crime," he countered, though somewhat sheepishly. "And besides, I'm completely under his thrall now."

            Astoria laughed. "I think he's finally broken you," she said teasingly. Draco scowled.

            "Anyway," she continued, "are you quite sure you'll be alright just staying here? There's always still the option of having the elves keep Scorpius for the night while we stay in-"

            "I don't want both of us to be so far away from our son, even for just one night," he quickly interrupted.

            Astoria sat next to him and gazed into his silver eyes imploringly. It was then that he noticed her lovely dress, soft gold with subtle shimmers that caught both his and Scorpius' eyes.

            "Relax, darling," she said, "I know how you feel about these things. I just wanted to ensure that you would be fine without me."

            Draco nodded, turning away and focusing on the way Scorpius was playing with his slender fingers. "I don't want to waste my time cozying up to whoever is gracing Portugal with their holy presence -"

            "The South East Asian and Austronesian delegates."

            "-when I can entertain myself much more effectively in our own home," Draco finished. Scorpius clapped his tiny, chubby hands together. "Besides, how can you expect me to say no this adorable baby?" he quipped with a smile (which he had meant as a smirk, of course, but one glance at Scorpius made the corner of his lips turn up more).

            Of course, it didn't escape his attention that she hadn't even tried to persuade him. She never did anymore, perhaps understanding his strong preference now to stay home rather than play the social butterfly game like they used to. He didn't think it was a matter of necessity anymore, and he honestly believed that his wife could effectively continue her role as international diplomat without him at her side all the time. He still managed his private consultancies and Potions Mastery, so it was back to the time when they both supported each other's ambitions. The only difference was that he had more flexible hours and she had to be at every event she organized.

            Secretly, Draco wished wholeheartedly that she could really appreciate him as he was despite his absence in their social circle. While she was busy keeping up their proper pureblood manner, Draco was technically breaking tradition by choosing not to do so. He was sure that Astoria had to do a lot of clever sidewinding when explaining his sudden desire to stay out of the limelight (probably along the lines of 'Oh, he's just focusing on this new potion that he's developing from an old Malfoy text'), and he kept promising himself that he would make it up to her however he could.

            If he could just get away from the allure of little Scorpius, that is.

            Astoria rose gracefully and brushed off imaginary specks of dust from her elegant dress robes. "In that case, I shall be off. I do need to be there hours before in order to welcome the delegates. Time difference does change things up a lot."

            "Of course, darling," Draco said, standing up to kiss his wife chastely. "Have a good weekend, then."

            When Scorpius laughed again, much more exuberantly, his father's expression morphed once more into a bright grin, making Astoria roll her eyes dramatically as she left.

            "We'll leave your mother to handle those big, bad, boring bureaucrats," Draco whispered conspiratorially to his son, who merely giggled. "And we can have all the fun we want!"

            "Da - ah ah ah wah mah!"

            "That's exactly right," Draco answered with a note of praise. "Such a smart boy I've got! Now let's get you all dressed up for today's trip!"

 

***

            "It's Sunday!" Harry gleefully shouted out, swinging around a laughing Teddy in his arms.

            "Does that mean we get to play with Cousin Draco again?" the little metamorphmagus asked excitedly. He was still at the age where he couldn't quite understand repetitive patterns in the long term, but knew enough that he was always worked up whenever he realized it was a Sunday, because Sundays were special.

            Harry smiled and returned the same level of excitement. "That's right, they should come through within the hour, so you'd best get dressed up!"

            Knowing that Teddy would always move faster when in high spirits, Harry felt no shame in knowing that he could relax this time and not have to fight his godson into his clothes.

            After using a few household cleansing and refreshing charms around the house, and ordering a decent lunch from Kreacher (who was perhaps the only one possibly more excited than Teddy at the prospect of preparing large meals again), he found himself in front of the fire waiting patiently.

            He only had to sit for a few more minutes before the telltale flashing of his Floo indicated the arrival of his regular visitors.

            "Malfoy!" he greeted warmly as the blond stepped out gracefully. In his arms, he firmly supported his drooling son.

            "Hello, Potter!" he greeted brightly, dusting himself off with his free wand hand.

            "Dracooooooooooo!" A multicolored blur crashed into Malfoy's legs and Harry had to hold Teddy back a little so that Malfoy wouldn't lose balance.

            "Now, Teddy, what did Granma Andy say about rushing at Cousin Draco while he's holding Scorpius?" Harry asked sternly with his I'm-a-father voice.

            The child had the decency to look guilty, though still with a smile on his face. "I'm sorry, Draco," he mumbled, "Granma said you could be hurt if I did that without thinking. Did I hurt you?"

            Harry felt proud that the effort he and Andromeda had been putting in teaching Teddy some basic ethical principles was now showing,

            To his credit, Malfoy didn't make a big deal out of it. "I'm fine, Ted, and so is Scorpius. We should be careful next time, though, alright?" he said gently.

            Teddy nodded sagely, which Harry beamed at. In a second though, he remembered his guests. "Shall we head into the playroom?" he asked. The blond nodded and they made their way to the extra room down the hallway which Harry had converted into a child-safe playroom.

            In the last few months, he and Draco had arranged regular playdates for Draco and Teddy on Sundays when their schedules permitted. It wasn't always a regular occurrence, but enough for the cousins to get to know each other better. And anyway, Harry didn't mind the extra companionship - it was much easier to handle children when there was more than one adult, after all.

            Sometimes, they had James, Al and Scorpius as well, though the latter two were usually kept in the enlarged crib while Teddy spent time with Draco and Harry kept an eye on a crawling James.

            But that wasn't even the best part, because-

            "Are they here yet?" Ginny walked in from the kitchen holding a sleeping Albus. "Oh, hi, Draco!" she greeted warmly, moving closer to give him a peck on the cheek. "And you've brought Scorpius again! Perfect! The others will be here today, too, so be prepared for a full house."

            As if on signal, more voices were added to the room with the sudden arrival of Ron, Hermione, Hugo and Rose. Almost instantly, the energy in Grimmauld Place became supercharged and energized that Harry felt even more excited than he had been that morning.

            It was such a beautiful tableau, he thought to himself with a grin.

            There was Ginny, helping a laughing Malfoy and a frazzled Hermione in putting down their overexcited babies into the enlarged crib along with Albus. Hugo and James were being secured by Ron in the play pen in the center of the room, while Teddy harassed all of the grownups one by one with his boisterous giggles. The mood was infectious and in no time at all, the adults had settled into their routine of catching up while Kreacher busied himself in the kitchen.

            Harry felt elated as he sat back in comfort, looking around at the bright faces of his best friends, listening quietly to Ginny and Hermione nagging Malfoy about more baby stuff while Ron shook his head in sympathy.

            _This_ , Harry thought fondly, _this is what it means to be a family_.

 

***

 

            Draco tipped the last of his butterbeer into his mouth delicately, before continuing the conversation. The kids were mostly asleep (with Potter forcing a sleepy Teddy into the bedroom down the hall) and all the pleasantries had run dry, so it was now time for the more serious topics.

            "So it's true?" he asked Weasley, who was sitting across from him. "Mind maps for the _entire_ department?"

            Weasley shook his head in apparent annoyance. "Yeah, apparently to keep a record of ability to do our job. Load of rubbish. It even includes any others pulled in for the recent year's special cases. It's given everyone in the Auror Corps a headache. Who wants to have to go in and get their mind investigated? I mean, sure it's a short cut version of Harry's full mind mapping process for real criminal investigations, but seriously. Do they expect us all to be happy that we're being spied on?"

            "You're not being spied on, Ron," Hermione interjected. She had a thoughtful expression, which Draco was sure meant that the cogs were working overtime. "But I do agree that it's a rather large inconvenience for the entire department. Surely they're aware of the gross amount of interdepartmental cooperation within the Ministry in one month, let alone a year? It's such a generalized and sloppy solution, and it'll take forever just to get everyone done!"

            "What are we talking about?" Potter had rejoined them at last, bringing with him a fresh batch of butterbeers.

            "The memo," Weasley replied, snatching a couple of the new bottles and handing one over to Draco.

            Potter's face darkened. "I swear, I don't know if I'm supposed to be happy that the Ministry officials now 'believe' in the MMI's mind mapping system, or insulted that they'd think of using it against us with such a blatant disregard for personal privacy."

            "It's a pretty desperate move," Hermione said. "And I believe Kingsley was telling us the truth. We know how he works, this can't have come from just him. It had to have been proposed for approval and it was probably treated as one of the many memos that goes through his desk each day. And I'm willing to bet that it was worded so it wouldn't attract unwanted attention until it was approved."

            "It's affecting a whole lot of people though," Ginevra volunteered. "I mean, I bet it's causing loads of hard feelings in all departments that have come in contact with the Aurors. It's like the Ministry itself sees you all as possible criminals in need of surveillance. That doesn't say much for the officials if they don't even have trust in their own law enforcement body."

            Potter snorted. "Officially, they say it's to ensure that the Auror Corps are mentally fit for duty and maximized to the fullest of our abilities. Unofficially, it's just another way for them to keep us in control."

            "What do you mean?" asked Ginevra.

            "They're afraid of us," Potter replied stonily. "They probably want to make sure that none of us has any inclination to take over or stage a coup. It's like we're being identified, tagged and filed."

            Draco frowned. "Tagged?"

            Hermione nodded. "In the muggle world, researchers would sometimes tag animals, meaning they implant some sort of tracking or identification device. It's supposedly done in good will, for academic and ecological purposes, but then no one ever mentions how it could affect the animals for the rest of their lives. It's even worse in the case of mind mapping, because the top officials will have access to the mind maps of the Auror Corps. It's bordering close to invasion of privacy for them to have that much intel on your individual minds."

            "I honestly didn't think much of this when I got the summons," Draco admitted. "My curiosity was the only reason I even brought it up tonight."

            "Of course you got one, too," Ginevra said, "I forgot you've had to consult with that food poisoning potion a few months back."

            "Oh that's right," Weasley added. "I forgot Macmillan got you for that one. Bollocks, that means you still fall under the consultants who've come in within the last year."

            Draco nodded.

            "If it makes you feel any better, Ron and I and every single Auror are supposed to do this. Ironic, isn't it?"

            "Nothing much we can do about it," Draco sighed. "I'm scheduled two weeks from now."

            "It'll be quick," Potter reassured, though with a frown. "It won't be my full process, so it'll just be a light incantation and then a record of your simplified mind map will be kept in the secure archives."

            Hermione shuddered. "Imagine all of that personal information, just kept for them to see..."

            "Hopefully it'll be analyzed superficially," Potter said. "They'll have the general idea of how our minds run, and they'll realize that we're just doing our job and they can just go on and focus on actually doing theirs."

            "Stupid higher-ups," Draco heard Weasley mutter under his breath.

            "To be honest," Hermione said suddenly, "I am somewhat curious as to what _your_ mind map will look like, Harry."

            Ginevra gave out a very unladylike bark of laughter. "Oh, they'll be in for a treat! Harry's mind will be so complex and convoluted that they'll probably spend days just analyzing his!"

            "I'm trying to find a compliment in there," Potter pouted, before he joined in the laughter. "But you're right, it'll be hilarious trying to dissect my mind, considering that I invented the entire process and I'm pretty much the poster boy for everything unusual."

            Weasley laughed. "Good luck with that! Traumatic early childhood, missing guardians, not to mention inappropriate child-endangering school activities and post-traumatic stress disorder brought on by continual exposure to warfare..."

            As the redhead continued listing, Draco was quite scandalized that the trio could openly discuss such matters lightly. He stole a glance at Potter, whose eyes were filled with mirth and amusement. Clearly he didn't seem to mind one bit. There was nothing passive aggressive or tense in the atmosphere - they were all, to put it bluntly, survivors of the same traumatic childhood, and thus possibly found that amusement in their shared history was a much better way of moving on. Or so Draco thought.

            "You forgot the tendency for detachment, isolation and being a hermit," Ginevra added, which made Potter scowl.

            "And need for control in the kitchen," Hermione added with a smile.

            "That, I'm fine with," Ron pointed out. "Harry can go mental in the kitchen, so long as I get fed his shepherd's pie. But other than that, he's pretty much the typical tragic hero archetype."

            Draco couldn't help himself. "No arguments there," he added teasingly.

            "Ah, fuck you all!" Potter cried with pretend incredulity, in between laughs of his own. "Ah, now I can't wait to get it over and done with. They won't know what hit 'em."

            As they all tried to control their loud laughter, Kreacher appeared. "Afternoon tea and cakes, Master Harry," he announced before popping away again, leaving the coffee table now full of small confections and a nice hot pot.

            "Haven't we just eaten less than two hours ago?" Ginevra cried in disbelief, patting her tummy. "I'll never get my figure back!"

            Draco was surprised. "We just spent two hours voluntarily discussing nappies, crying and politics," he said in awe. "I think we're actually acting like adults now, in the most boring way. A bit more food and we're well on our way to Slughorn level."

            "Can't help it," Potter quipped. "Kreacher just likes overstuffing people with food until they explode."

            "I'm not complaining," Weasley said, mouth already full of cake.

            "You're a glutton, Ronald," Hermione admonished, before serving everyone else a portion of the dessert.

            And that was pretty much what a typical Sunday was now, for Draco and company.

            _And it's not so bad,_ he reflected, as he took a bite of his piece of cake and smiled in complete contentment, surrounded by his new circle of family and friends. _It's not so bad after all._

 

***

 

            Late into the night, Draco found Potter staring at the fire with a contented look on his face while everyone else was currently too busy to notice, helping to clear up the evidence of their inebriation.

            "Alright?" he asked tentatively.

            Potter looked at him with the same lazy smile on his face. "I'm the happiest I've ever been," he whispered. "I'm just trying to remind myself that it's all real."

            Draco sat beside him. He was done Vanishing his bottles anyway. "How's the new life treating you, then?" he ventured with a little trepidation.

            "It's great," Potter said with a laugh. Then the expression faded a little. "I'll survive."

            "I wonder if you just need to dip your toes into the dating pool again," Draco suggested nonchalantly. The brunette smirked.

            "Maybe, I don't know. It's too early to tell," he admitted. "It's not really something I'm prioritizing at the moment."

            "Well, when you're ready, I'll have a full list of pre-approved single witches," Draco joked with an edge of good cheer that only reared its head when he was beyond tipsy. "All with impressive credentials, no-hero worship and attractive enough to balance out your unfortunate lack of good looks."

            Potter just clapped him on the back amusedly. "Whatever would I do without you?"

 

***

           

            Hermione was right. Again.

            It took a full month to herd all the Aurors into and out of the MMI, and Harry was _exhausted_. Ron had long since given up, pulling Ernie up to cover for him as they did the final cataloguing of all 77 active Aurors, 45 reserves, 29 cross-department consultants and 13 independent consultants, with the non-Aurors taking up an additional three weeks.

            As he had promised, Malfoy's session wasn't anything memorable, though he hadn't been present to oversee it personally as he was assigned to a couple of witches from the Muggle Liaison office. He was able to bid him goodbye, though, when Malfoy had tapped on his door and said he was done and leaving.

            Overall, the entire mind mapping business was a pain in the arse, which of course meant that almost every single Auror went out for drinks immediately once it was over. Harry himself couldn't be more grateful. He hadn't expected it to be so hard to be away from home for a month worth of office-time, and it was the first instance of him being away from the kids during the day. Granted, his actual hours were half (since he only had to be present to sign off paperwork for the mind maps) but it still left him restless. Luckily, Ginny had asked Odair for a two-month long reprieve from training. Of course, it meant more time with the team in preparation for their run in South Africa, but it was heaven for both Harry and Ginny that the arrangement had worked out to their favor.

            After having Albus, the two of them had finally laid out their plans to the entire Weasley clan. Harry and Ginny had long agreed that he preferred to be more hands on with the children, but wanted to keep working as an Auror. Meanwhile, Ginny herself also appreciated time with them, though admittedly couldn't yet give up on her dream of representing England again in 2010 (her having to miss the 2006 World Cup due to the pregnancy). They decided first, between themselves, that while Albus was under two years old, they would maintain the same living arrangements, though Ginny would have her own separate room in Grimmauld Place. Harry kept his flat, though hadn't yet thought to move back in. Actually, if he were honest with himself, the move back to Grimmauld Place, (though done for particularly melancholic reasons), was perhaps the best decision he had made for his family. The space seemed so much more perfect for the sudden extension of his life.

            As for the raising of children, Harry and Ginny agreed to balance work and home time, with Harry still working from his home office and Ginny coming home every night instead of staying with the rest of the Harpies on their training grounds. The weekends, they both put their full attention to James and Albus. Any unplanned situations were helped along by Molly, Arthur, or Andromeda.

            It was for this reason that Harry had been relieved that Ginny could be home the entire time that he had to go to the Ministry for seven weeks. It was a refreshing change (and quite an eye opener) for both of them, which only added to the improved dynamic between the two former lovers.

            In fact, Harry felt like he loved her even more, just not the kind that ended in a marriage.

            Despite being home for most of the pregnancy and after, Ginny seemed to have pushed herself to become a more present mother to James and Albus. It still wasn't a perfect family, but it was a good compromise that allowed both Harry and Ginny a balance between what they wanted and what they needed.

            Sending the day away from home also gave Harry the chance to actually catch up more with his mates during his lunch hour. He hadn't realized how much he had missed spending time with Ron, Ernie, and all the other Aurors in the MMI department. In between work-related lunches and pub crawls, Harry found time to meet up with Malfoy as well.

            His friendship with the blonde potioneer had fast become a staple in his life, and there was very little animosity in their behavior at this point. There were no lingering traces of bitterness, but their need to be at each other's throats was still a defining feature of their interesting camaraderie.

            Harry actually thought there was a bit of tension in their relationship, but not the aggressive kind. It was very different from the time back in Hogwarts when being in the same castle as Malfoy was enough to make him want to throttle the magic out of him. But this kind of tension was different, though Harry didn't think it was anything negative.

            On the contrary, even Malfoy's disposition had become... sunnier (if that were even possible on such a sharp face as his). Now that they had Scorpius and Albus, they were able to relate with each other more than they had ever expected. And during their lively exchanges, Harry always learned something new and interesting about his former enemy.

            Like the fact that Malfoy so needed control in his life that even just ordering at a deli took so much consideration (Harry just picked one of his favorite ready-made ones). Or that his initial expectations of married life were very different in terms of closeness and intimacy (Harry shuddered to imagine what it must be like for an unfortunate traditional pureblood to sleep with their spouses without the intimacy of romantic love. Lie back and think of England, indeed).

            He also noticed little things that Malfoy never really had to say out loud or point out. Like how the man turned his nose up at anything sugary but loved chocolate. And how he had this weird tic of scratching at the second button of his shirt when he was nervous. Oh, and Harry was pretty sure he could zero in on the brand of cologne Malfoy used, since he had most certainly been wearing the same thing forever. Little things like that, stuff that didn't matter.

            Not that they mattered to Harry, either. He just noticed these things, that was all.

           

***

 

            "Do I really have to?" Draco all but whined. His mother was unimpressed.

            "Yes, I must insist," Narcissa said, crossing her arms. "I have already asked Astoria to include both you and Scorpius in her itinerary for France, which should have been the original plan to begin with."

            "Mother, Astoria and I have long since agreed that I've grown tired of such parties." He scowled. "I was willing to do it for the last few years to help our family regain its social presence. Now that we are in an even better position, I don't see why my wife can't keep doing exercising her commendable diplomatic skills without my cool indifference to hinder her."

            "Because, you have a family name to uphold, and not appearing with your wife in events that she organizes is unbecoming of a Malfoy."

            Draco sighed. It was one of those times when he felt he was becoming more liberal-minded than he desired. Had he really been neglecting his duties as a husband while fulfilling those as a father?

            "I'm surprised Astoria even considered this," he mused.

            Narcissa cleared her throat a bit guiltily, he noticed. "I may have been slightly more persuasive when I spoke with her."

            Draco couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. "I can't imagine what you said that could have convinced her to change such a well-established routine," he said, eyeing his mother with some trepidation. "I'm guessing I don't have much of a choice, either?"

            "Of course you have a choice, darling," Narcissa cooed. "But I would really rather insist that you go."

            Draco smirked. "Which means I don't have much of a choice," he repeated.

            "Don't be silly," Narcissa huffed. "Now, I'll leave you to your packing. Merlin knows how complicated your wardrobe gets in the face of thee types of fancy balls..."

            Draco started at his mother's retreating figure in disbelief. He was no longer a child, and yet he still felt the need to impress her, to show that he was worth the title of Lord Malfoy.

            Resignedly, he walked out and headed to the west wing conservatory, where he knew Astoria was currently reading. He would have to confirm with her and deal with the situation his mother had singlehandedly dealt them. Two weeks in the south of France might sound like the perfect holiday for other busy wizards, but he knew better. Endless fancy parties and hands to shake and people to impress were just a small part of the itinerary.

            They hadn't yet taken Scorpius to France, though they did have a family villa there - they both agreed that having such a young child would merely be troublesome to attend to when their concentration needed to be on something else. It was why Draco left his wife to those events that he no longer had the patience for after having Scorpius. Now that they were to go on a publicized diplomatic visit to another country as a family, they had to adjust and reassess how they would go about it. Playing the high society husband and wife would not be enough in this circumstance. They needed to devise the best manner of portraying themselves in the limelight, in order to gain approval and support within their social circle. So much work always went behind keeping up within the hierarchy.

            To be honest, though, Draco's main concern was how much time he would be able to steal away with his son while they were on the trip.

            _Hmm._ Perhaps the child had broken him after all.

            Hopefully that wasn't a bad thing.

           

 

 

 


	25. Wards and Warnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay with this chapter! I had already finished it weeks ago, but when I was about to upload it, I realized that 80 percent of it was gone and I had to start over again. I cannot tell you enough how difficult it is to write something out again when it was already done before. While I have an outline that I follow for plot, I write freely as I go. So it was very very difficult to get the same kind of writing through. So this chapter turned out slightly different from the "original" but nothing much has been affected plot-wise. Sorry again for the long wait, and I hope you all stick by this story anyway. 
> 
> PS: For all of you who commented that the previous chapters were all perfect and fluffy, you should have known better what that might have meant for future chapters hahaha. :) Enjoy! ~Idishi

**(Present, 2007)**

           It was immediately obvious to Draco that the warmer climate of France was more agreeable to his wife, whose temperament seemed to mellow out the moment they stepped away from the Portkey Terminal.

          "Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," a smiling witch greeted with a French accent. She was very pretty, but Draco automatically decided that her face would have easily been eclipsed in a crowd by Astoria's understated beauty. It was just the difference in the way they held themselves - this welcoming witch tried too hard, while Astoria was just comfortable in her own skin. And that, for Draco, made her stand out all the more.

          Since he and his wife had regularly visited the country during their courtship and engagement, they had already acquired several estates to their name, and it was to the Maison Blanc that the family Apparated to.

          After giving the house elves their orders for the duration of their stay, the couple settled in for the day, exhausted from their international Portkey. Scorpius, seemingly unbothered by his first jump to another country, slept soundly.

          Draco, as always, tucked his lovely wife into bed and went to back to his son's bedside, where he just sat and watched, Scorpius' gentle breathing becoming a lullaby that effortlessly sent him to a dreamless slumber.

 

***

 

          The first gala that required the Malfoy couple's attendance was surprisingly enjoyable. Astoria had agreed to the idea of bringing along Scorpius in her arms upon arrival, in order to introduce him to the who's who of international wizarding diplomacy. Of course, they had a house elf bring their son home after the initial introductions because dragging him along for the entire night would have been an unnecessary inconvenience for them.

          Well, to Astoria at least. Draco thought he had enjoyed the gala more because he had his little boy to provide ample distraction.

          By their third event that week, word had already gotten around, and Astoria was joyful at the positive commentary they received for continuing to project a united front as a model pureblood family with a modernized approach to wizarding culture. Several traditionalist diplomats had already approached Draco several times to congratulate him on his success at reestablishing the Malfoy name, while Astoria was celebrated among the society's ladies for being the epitome of a perfect pureblood wife and mother. Local papers and gossip mongers latched onto the introduction of Scorpius to the public world, with nothing but praise for the gentle heir of the noble House of Malfoy.

          The only odd thing that had marred an otherwise successful venture happened the day after their fifth event.

          Draco was carrying an enthusiastic Scorpius around the grounds of their French manor, safe within its wards, when the popping sound of a house elf's appearance startled both of them.

          "Master Draco," the elf bowed low with respect. "You is having a special delivery."

          Eyebrow raised in surprise, Draco retraced his steps back into the house. The only individuals who could send in mail to this address were blood relations and any others keyed in specifically into the wards. If it was a 'special' delivery, it could be any form of emergency from back home, which made Draco anxious.

          "I'll handle this quickly, Scorp," he said to his son, (ignoring the inner voice that was reminding him how much Potter would make fun of him if he found out). He shifted the child to his other hip in case he might become uncomfortable after being held in one position for so long. "Then we can go back to looking at all the lovely birds like we planned, alright?"

          Satisfied with a gurgling smile from the little boy, Draco followed the elf into the entrance hall, where mail was usually collected and magically sorted for their perusal.

          "What..."

          He was surprised at the simple envelope that was set on the round circular table in the hall. There was no name or address indicated. It was sealed. "It does not bear any of our family seals," he noted to the small figure cowering beside him.

          "We elves has tested the letter, but magic is not allowing us to open the seal." the elf explained nervously. "We is not sending it up to Master's room without Master's permission."

          When Draco nodded his agreement, the elf let out a visible sigh of relief. He wanted to touch the letter out of curiosity, but his paranoid self knew better. "It is from an unknown source, but made it through the wards. Has it been checked for malicious charms or Dark Magic?"

          "Master's letter does not contain any bad magics," the elf replied. "Special delivery is for when letter can open only for Master and no one else."

          "Has Astoria been informed?"

          The elf shook his head. "Mistress is asleep. And the letter is for Master. Magic says so."

          "You've done well," Draco addressed the elf, suddenly remembering Hermione's lessons on house elf etiquette. "Thank you. Please go back to the other elves and inform them that any letters similar to this shall be treated with caution."

          After the expected pop of Disapparition, Draco finally moved closer to the pristine parchment, feeling scrutinized as if it were a sentient being staring innocently at him and not just a piece of paper.

          He used his free hand to touch his fingertip gingerly to one of the envelope's corners, expecting some sort of explosion or spark of a magical attack, but he was disappointed. All that happened was the flap unsealing itself after reading his magical signature.

          Inside was a simple white card, matching the plain parchment envelope. Draco took it and turned as pale as a ghost.

          He dropped the card as if it had burned him. It fluttered delicately to the carpet, mocking him with its clean simplicity. He staggered back, feeling uneasy, and clutched Scorpius even closer to himself. Neither of them were hurt. The house elf had spoken the truth - there were no malicious charms on the card. Instead, there was one short message. The simple words, eerily plain but full of dark promises, kept echoing in his head ominously.

          _What's yours will soon be mine_.

 

***

 

          Narcissa was furious. She had immediately taken Draco's international Floo call from France despite the early hour, and was now trying to make sense of what she had just learned. "Who could have the gall to threaten such an old and esteemed family as ours?" she demanded, before turning to her son. "Have you really no idea?"

          Draco could practically feel the waves of anxiety radiating from his mother. He shook his head in response, trying not to disturb the boy still clutched to his chest. "As many enemies as we used to have after the war, most if not all have been locked away in Azkaban, and the rest have followed suit with the wizarding public and accepted us with the respect we have rightfully earned when we rehabilitated the Malfoy name." He turned to his wife in question.

          Astoria shook her head. "I know nothing, darling. Any enemies I might have gained would have ended only in petty quarrels of little intellect. No one I know would have reason to resort to such an open threat..." Her usually sunny complexion had turned pale as milk upon hearing about the mysterious letter, and she had been quiet for most of the time since Draco had called the family to meet. There was still a hint of a tremor in her delicate fingers, as if they were no longer under her control.

          When Draco had offered Scorpius earlier for Astoria to hold, she had silently refused, and Draco could see that his wife was badly shaking. He had taken her wordless plea and kept holding their son, perhaps in a vain attempt to shield him from whatever new threat they were now facing. If anything, however, he became more agitated as his mind came up with even more dangerous situations that might befall his wife and son.

          "We do have the advantage of working close with the Office of Malicious Magical Intent," he called towards the hearth where his mother's face flared with determination.

          "That is Potter's department, yes?" the woman asked.

          "Yes," he affirmed, voice gaining traction as his train of thought gave him a measure of relief. "If anyone can sort this out before it even happens, Potter and Weasley can. It's what they _do_."

          Astoria gave a small sniffle, but remained taciturn, still shaking while hugging herself. Draco moved to sit next to her, and took one of her hands for comfort.

          "I shall Floo Potter as soon as you end this call," he continued. "But in the meantime..."

          Narcissa interrupted him smoothly. "There are old wards from the ancient Malfoy line that offer stronger protections. In fact, we might also be able to look into activating some of the blood wards."

          "What difference would that make?" Astoria asked worriedly, turning her large, teary eyes to her mother in law.

          Draco saw his mother's lips turn into a thin line. "The current wards, and any other traditional protective wards we might already have protect us only to the extent that we are in proximity to the Manor, or any of our private estates. Blood wards, however, are more specific to the family members, and it would calm my ailing heart if you could all be guaranteed an additional layer of protection even when you are called away from home."

          "That's a wonderful idea, mother," Draco said gratefully. "Please, prepare anything we might need and Astoria and I shall be back as soon as we can secure an international portkey to Wiltshire."

          "That might take days," Astoria huffed, now seemingly calmer. "But I can talk to the officer in charge of international departure, if you want. My status here should be enough to get us a day or two off from the regular processing period."

          "Thank you, darling," Draco said with pride before turning back to the fire. "Now, Mother, waste no time in raising any wards you may already have lying in wait. You are also in danger so long as this threat... just please, be safe," he added in a small voice, hating that he sounded like a scared little boy.

          Narcissa seemed to appreciate his fears though. "Of course, dear," she said gently. "Worry not for me. I am safe at the Manor. Get here as soon as you can." With that, the call ended and Draco allowed himself to melt into the seat's backrest.

          Astoria squeezed his hand gently. "I refuse to let this stupid letter ruin our time here," she said, and Draco was glad to observe that she was almost back to her sweet but haughty manner. "So long as we are within the estate, nothing can happen to us."

          Draco lifted her hand to his lips and brushed the back with a gentle kiss. "I would die before any harm befell you or our son, no matter where we are," he whispered reverently.

          Astoria looked him straight in the eye. "It will not come to that."

          "Are you so sure?" Draco asked softly, his words seeking reassurance.

          "It's in your nature. I married you for more than your money, you know," she replied. "You have your cold, hard, Malfoy intellect and your unquenchable sense of self-preservation. Putting all of that together, I trust that you will find a way out of this before any of us end up in real danger."

          "For all our sakes, I hope you're right," he said. "Now, time for another important call."

          "Right now?" Astoria took the sleeping Scorpius from her husband, intending to take him to bed. Near the door, she turned back to him. "Making an emergency call to your mother is one thing. But isn't it too early for a business call?"

          Draco couldn't help but snort in amusement as he threw a handful of powder into the fire and watched the flames turn green.

 

***

 

          Of course it was Malfoy. Who else could it be?

          "You're supposed to be in France," was Harry's greeting. He deserved to skip the formalities and etiquette given that Malfoy had just called and caught him in a just-woke-up-still-in-boxers moment.

          "I am. But it's nice to see you've been keeping up with my social calendar, Potter," the blonde answered. Harry was about to think of a comeback, when he immediately noted the tension in his friend's expression, the tight pull of his frown and the uncertainty of his tone. In a second, his brain switched modes.

          "What's wrong?" he demanded, moving closer to the hearth, drowsiness and sleepwear forgotten. "What's happened?"

          Malfoy seemed taken aback by the sudden change in the ambience. "How did y- never mind. I - I need your help. You and Weasley. I know it's early, but -"

          Harry interrupted. "I'm used to you calling at midnight, as I'm sure you're quite used to me returning the favor. Why should early mornings be any different? Now, spill."

          Malfoy nodded, and his weariness and anxiety became even more obvious. "Astoria and I received a threat yesterday."

          Harry sat back, frowning. "A threat?"

          "Yes, addressed to me. No traceable magical signature. But the odd thing is that it made it through with our mail, so it somehow bypassed the security wards in our estate."

          Harry raised an eyebrow. "Your estate is only keyed to the Malfoy family, right?" He knew he remembered correctly when the blonde nodded. "Do you have anyone else keyed in?"

          "No," Malfoy said, deflated. "No one really stays here except me, Astoria, my parents and the elves."

          Harry bit his lip. "You don't think... he might..."

          "No," Malfoy said sharply. "I know what you're thinking. My father is securely guarded in Azkaban and any remaining Death eaters were already rounded up by _you._ " He narrowed his eyes. "And he wouldn't ever endanger his own family. That's why I know this is different. Someone out there was able to bypass my security system and I want to make sure my family will be safe from... whoever this is."

          Harry ran his hand through his hair, which was pretty much a rat's nest this early in the morning. "Any obscure relations who might have enough Malfoy blood to get through the wards?"

          "None that we know of."

          "You're sure you don't have any idea who might have motive to threaten you?"

          Malfoy rubbed frustratingly at his eyes, which signaled to Harry just how bothered he was. "No, I haven't had any real enemies in the last few years, let alone anyone who would have the bollocks to threaten me directly."

          "And the actual threat-?"

          "Simple card and envelope, untraceable, just said one thing. ' _What's yours will soon be mine_.' That was it."

          "And it doesn't ring any bells? Jog your memory any way at all?"

          Malfoy seemed to think on it, but then shook his head. "No, sorry. This was all quite sudden and unexpected."

          "Okay, okay..." Harry took a deep breath. "I'll get together a team, and we can address your problem as soon as you get back in. I'll be working from home and not on the field, but Ron is fully capable of leading the investigation from the Ministry."

          For a second, Harry saw something spark in his friend's eye. He realized it was gratitude.

          " _Thank you_ ," Malfoy said, full of relief. "You don't know what this means to me. To my family."

          "I do, and I'll do everything in my power to help you," Harry murmured, then flashed a smile at the blonde. "Now that we've sorted that out... get the fuck out of my floo. It's still just before sunrise, you bastard."

          "Yes, I already knew that," Malfoy gave him a patented smirk. "Goodnight then, Potter." The call faded.

          Harry stumbled back to bed and fell into his still-warm sheets. His drowsiness had returned, and he let himself drift off lazily. "Goodnight to you, too, Draco," he whispered to no one in particular, having already fallen asleep.

 

***

 

          Astounded as he was that his wife was able to secure the required international Portkey permits in only two days, Draco still felt odd about coming back home to British soil. After much thinking, he realized that it had been one of the few times he had spent that many days in the presence of both his son and his wife, the three of them together. Something about it had made him feel more light-hearted, and he wondered if there was any truth to the rubbish about falling for someone again and again.

          Seeing Astoria in her element, acting as the beautiful and witty diplomat in charge of liaising with the highest levels of wizarding politicians and celebrities, reminded Draco what had attracted him to her in the first place. In fact, Narcissa was right. Perhaps he had allowed himself too much time away from her, which had possibly made him forget that he also had to act the part of her husband. At his point, both sides of their original contracts had already been fulfilled satisfactorily, but he concluded to himself that it wasn't reason enough to stop doting upon her. Especially now that they were all in the shadow of a supposed foe, Draco decided that he needed to take more care of his family.

          Surely, he thought to himself as he wandered the expansive garden behind the east wing, his mother would be unbearably smug for the next few days. She always was when she was right. Perhaps it was time that Draco admitted that.

          "Draco."

          He wheeled around in surprise. The note of stress from his mother's voice tugged at his heartstrings as if on instinct. "Mother," he said by way of greeting. It was very early in the morning, which was why he had chosen the eastern gardens - the sunrise provided such a peaceful vista that it helped to soothe his worries. It also served as an escape when he didn't want to be found, because Narcissa eventually caught on that he didn't want to be disturbed whenever he visited this particular haven. She never did.

          Which was why Draco found it troubling that she had sought him out now.

          "Come inside," his mother said brusquely. "There is something I wish to talk to you about."

          Draco pouted. "Another family meeting?"

          "No," she replied, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. "Come to my personal suite."

          With that, she turned away and marched back towards the Manor, and Draco was left speechless. Was this just so she could gloat at him about being right? But it had to be more serious than that, or she wouldn't have cut his morning walk short.

          With a drawn out sigh that was lost to the breeze, Draco trudged up the path in Narcissa's wake, making his way to the West wing where his mother's private suite was.

 

          When he got there, Narcissa immediately flicked her wand towards the double doors, sealing them within her suite.

          "What-?"

          "Privacy charms," she supplied. "The more extreme kind that your father favored."

          "I - I see," Draco stammered, brow scrunching in apprehension. "And why are they necessary?"

          Several moments passed by in silence, during which Draco did his best to hold his tongue, so that he would not be the first to break the peace. If she wanted him to admit to her face that she had been right about his failings in marriage, then -

          "I was wrong."

          Stunned, Draco couldn't prevent himself from gaping uncouthly. "What?"

          "About you and Astoria," she clarified, though Draco still had no idea what it meant. "I made several conclusions, which was why I was convinced that spending time away from home, with just her and Scorpius, would help."

          "And it has!" Draco insisted. "You were right all along, Mother! I was neglecting my duties as her husband, which should never have fallen behind my being a father to Scorp."

          "Scorp?" she asked, bewildered.

          He turned pink with embarrassment. "Erm, just a nickname..."

          "In any case," Narcissa went on as if he hadn't interrupted, "I've noticed that you have become more withdrawn in the last few days."

          "You mean because I've spent all my time here in the Manor, keeping myself safe within the wards?" Draco said, rather scathingly. It was an obvious fact, and he wondered why his mother would bring it up when she had just recently insisted that they remain within the safety of the Malfoy estate.

          Narcissa sighed. "I meant that you have become too anxious, too...insecure about yourself."

          "Insecure?!" Draco repeated in disbelief. "Me? Insecure?"

          "Perhaps I have been reading too much into it, but I have been watching over you and even the slightest changes in your behavior are cause for my concern."

          Draco felt something in him snap. "I am not a young boy any more, Mother. I am allowed to grow and change, and I am most definitely not supposed to be under your scrutiny, which, if I may be bold as to say, is completely out of hand."

          "I do not mean to speak ill of you nor insult you, Draco," she replied stonily. "I could not help but notice, months ago, that you were so fixated on Scorpius. But after a mere week in France, you have been closing off yourself once more to focus only on Astoria."

          "And that's a bad thing?" Draco demanded. Wasn't it only recently that his mother had been nagging him about Astoria? And now that he had realized his shortcomings, she was saying the opposite?

          "It's not a bad thing, but it might be since you've been pulling away from all of us." The sad tone in her voice pulled Draco abruptly from his indignation. "I thought at first that you were placing too much attention on Scorpius, but now I see that you were content, and happy."

          "I am happy," Draco argued, frown back in place.

          Narcissa made a movement with her hand, as if waving off his answer. "I mean, truly happy. You were alive, ecstatic, bursting with giddiness every time you laid eyes on Scorpius. I thought Astoria deserved to share that same happiness of parenthood, which was why I thought to convince you to go to France. But..."

          "But?"

          "But now that you're back, and once again playing the part of the perfect husband, you have seemed more restless... your actions betray your doubtfulness. You appear...less sure of yourself. I cannot stand seeing this abrupt change. You were so full of joy, and now you are acting as a shell of your former self. All you do is shadow Astoria and drown her in attention that she already has enough of. You are acting like a lost pet, unsure of where you stand and hoping desperately to gain favor. It is far from who you are. I do not understand."

          Draco ground his teeth in frustration. How did she even come up with such conclusions? "Mother," he managed to force out as calmly as he could. "I did as you asked. I admitted that you were right. I am addressing my shortcomings as a husband. Now, you are going the complete opposite direction with your reasoning? Forgive me if I cannot take you so seriously."

          "I was wrong, Draco, it is as simple as that."

          Another frown marred Draco's face. It wasn't often that his mother would admit to being mistaken, and she had already done so repeatedly in the last few minutes.

          "What can I do to get rid of your irrational fears?" he finally asked, weary of the discussion already.

          Narcissa glared at him. "I am not being irrational. I only mean you well, Draco. There have been so many opportunities for me to play you like the obedient heir that you might have been groomed to be, had the second war not happened as it did. But I have always been against all of that, and everything I have done since having you has been to ensure that you are able to grow into yourself and make your own decisions. I admit my mistake now because I assumed that you were neglecting your marriage. But now it appears to me that you cannot be completely happy just acting the part of husband to your wife."

          "I am happy with my wife, mother. I chose her, remember?"

          Narcissa made a face. "You did. And yes, I saw that you were happy. And still are. But I see now that it is a different kind of happiness. For it is when you are with Scorpius, or with your new friends, that I see such a fierce joy and contentment reflected in your eyes that it overshadows what happiness you might share with Astoria."

          "Which was why you sent me to France." Draco was beginning to see her logic, but that didn't mean that he agreed with it.

          "Yes, I thought some time alone with her might give you the same burning joy. But when you came back, you seemed to have dimmed further."

          Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Perhaps it might be because of the threat to our lives? Or is that too trivial to be taken seriously?"

          "No, no," Narcissa insisted. "I realized my mistake. You see, I knew Scorpius was one of your sources of pride and happiness, and he was with you when you went away. It is clearer to me now that I have had some time to reconsider...I did not want Astoria to hear any of this, because she might demand much more from you than she already has. You have already done everything to prove yourself to her, and there is no reason why you should feel the slightest bit of insecurity in that regard. No, I see now that it is your friendships that give you that aura of pure joy, which I so enjoy seeing."

          "My friendships..."

          "I cannot explain, but ever since those first few times when I was suspicious of your behavior... your bonds with Potter, and Granger and Weasley are what add to your vitality, your sense of contentment. You may not see it, but from an outsider's perspective, it is quite obvious that your exposure to them always has you in good spirits at the end of the day. And that is something that I wish you to have as much as possible."

          Draco turned a doubtful eye at his mother's conclusion. "You're selling me out to Gryffindors."

          "I just want you to be happy, Draco," Narcissa said sincerely. "Truly happy. For that to happen, you need your wife, your son, and your friends. I've made the mistake of telling you to only focus on family, but it is evidently clear that being away from your new friends is detrimental. You are a wonderful husband, and an exceptional father. But I do not think that is enough."

          "I can't believe we're having this conversation," Draco finally said. He wasn't feeling so agitated anymore, just annoyed. "I don't like feeling like you are still trying to control my life."

          Narcissa merely looked pained at his words. "The only thing I can even do with the rest of my life is to ensure that I raised you well. It is not a temporary job. I am here to guide you, not control you. I love you, Draco, and I want you happy, before..."

          "Don't say it," Draco interrupted her, eyes blazing. "Don't you dare finish that train of thought!"

          When Narcissa was struck dumb by his outburst, he moved towards her and took her hands in his. "Thank you, for everything," he said softly, gently. "I know you mean well. I will... take your words into consideration."

          His mother nodded and squeezed his hands back. "That's all I ask."

          Draco moved back and straightened his posture. "As for your suggestion, it's your lucky day, since I've an appointment at the Ministry with a couple of Aurors later today."

          When Narcissa's expression brightened at his words, Draco couldn't help but smirk. "We'll see if your theories have any basis in fact."

          "Stay only within the Ministry. At least you can be protected there while you are away."

          Draco laughed this time, prior tension melting away. "Even if I end up in one of their houses, I'll be even safer there than in the Ministry," he assured her. "Perks of being friends with the Boy Who Lived, you know. Maximum security."

          "It is not a laughing matter. Be safe. And come home early enough so you can tell me that I was right."

          For the nth time, Draco rolled his eyes. He would never hear the end of it.

 

***

 

          Harry didn't expect Malfoy to come in until after lunch, so he spent the morning briefing the team he assembled from his MMI personnel. Ron, of course, had to be the Auror-in-Charge, since Harry was barred from active duty and could only act as supervising Auror. Ernie Macmillan had volunteered, having become one of Malfoy's better friends within the Auror Corps. With them were two other Aurors, Ella Perkins and Apollo Rogers, who were much younger but highly commended for their specializations in Tracking and Surveillance.

          "That's all the evidence we're starting with?" Macmillan asked again. "Not saying it's nothing to go on, but that'll be inconclusive at best."

          Harry nodded. "I agree. But sending that short message seems like someone throwing a line, like bait."

          "You mean like the suspect is waiting for a reaction?" Perkins asked. "Like it's a question, and they're waiting for an answer?"

          "That's actually a pretty good idea," said Ron. Harry knew his best mate was the best strategist in the entire Corps, so he was pretty sure the redhead's gears were already turning since the first time he mentioned the case to him. "If we make sure that Malfoy doesn't act suspicious or threatened in the public eye, the suspect might be frustrated and continue his harassment."

          "Which means more evidence," Rogers said.

          Harry nodded. "And we all know from working with all the mind maps over the years... sooner or later, a criminal will become careless and get himself caught."

          Macmillan tapped his fingers on the conference table. "What about protection?"

          Rogers scratched his head while deep in thought. "A security detail would be too obvious."

          "The Malfoy wards will protect him," Ron pointed out. "His family will be safe behind those. But he still comes out to the Ministry when he's consulted. I guess we can convince him to limit his visits to just the Ministry, so that the wards on the complex will at least be substantial protection from external threats."

          Harry thought back to his conversations on the Floo with Malfoy. "Hang on. One of the reasons he takes this seriously is because the letter got through his wards in the first place. So relying on just the property wards isn't foolproof."

          "What about stronger wards?" Perkins asked.

          Rogers shook his head. "I've done some research on old pureblood wards. Malfoy Manor has had its magic woven in since the early 1000's and that's a pretty substantial time period for the protective wards to build up over itself. I doubt any other wards could afford more security than that."

          "How could the threat break through the wards, then? They'd have to come from blood relations, or someone specifically keyed into the wards."

          Harry bit his lip. "No current relatives with a high enough degree of Malfoy blood relation, and no one else was keyed in. So somehow the security failed. Anything higher? Something we can layer over the existing wards?"

          Ron shrugged. "He doesn't have a high enough status to request for top level warding..."

          At his words, something in Harry's brain suddenly clicked into place.

          "No, he doesn't," he said slowly. "But I do."

         

 

         

         

 


	26. Ties that Bind

**(Present, 2007)**

         When Draco enlisted the help of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, he expected them to do their job as thoroughly as they always had.

         What he didn't count on was that they would go even more beyond that expectation.

         "You seriously want to do this? Are you _mad_?" he asked for the sixth time. He was sure that his face was now a fool's mask, but he couldn't care less, because Harry-bloody-Potter had just casually proposed a possible solution to his temporary safety, as if the repercussions were a mere toss of a coin.

         Potter shrugged his shoulders. "Why not? _Solum Sanctuarii_ is the highest level of personal protection that Magic itself can offer. If I can extend to my family and friends, there's no reason I can't include you."

         "B-b-but-" Draco's mind floundered. He was overwhelmed with the sudden proposition. Merlin, he had spent an inordinately large amount of time learning about the bindings from front to back. And he knew how intimate it was to be invited under someone's protection.

         It wasn't something thrown lightly, and Draco felt breathless that this was being offered to him so freely and willingly by his former nemesis.

         "Breathe, Malfoy," Macmillan sniggered. "It's the best precautions we've come up with, and suffice to say, it's really the only thing stronger than Malfoy wards. And Harry's told us how the suspect might get through even those."

         The young witch beside him, Ella-something, Draco recalled, nodded her head. "That's right, Mr. Malfoy, Auror Potter can provide you with the necessary protection since it would be best for you to carry on your usual activities. It would throw off the suspect and make him wonder why his initial threat did not cause you to panic."

         Draco turned to look once more at the Auror at the head of the conference table. His green eyes were unusually dark, so very like a predator stalking his prey and moving in for the kill. Draco gulped, trying to pass the nervous gesture as a slight cough. The only time he had ever seen Potter like this was when he had faced the Dark Lord at the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco had been just outside the doors of the Great Hall at the time, shielded by the arms of his parents, but he was able to steal three seconds away to see Voldemort and Potter circling each other like agile cats before casting their final spells.

         It was those precious moments, right before, that Draco saw the determination that the green eyes exuded, the singe-minded intent to strike down the maniacal murderer in front of him to save the people who meant everything to him.

        That shade of viridian never did leave his mind's eye. His near-perfect memory catalogued that rare flash of emerald, the pure driving force behind the power of the Boy Who Lived, and he could never, ever forget it.

         Seeing that same image right at this very moment was enough to shake his very foundations. Potter was out to catch his prey, and it was for Draco. It was all for Draco.

         "Well?"

         Potter's voice cut into his trance, and Draco had to shake his head to clear the fog from his mind. "Can we speak privately?" he asked, looking the brunet in the eye, waiting until he finally nodded his agreement.

         "D'you mind stepping out for a bit?" Potter asked his assembled team. They mumbled their acquiescence, and Weasley efficiently herded them out without so much as a questioning glance. It appeared that Potter really was the boss around here.

         When Draco heard the doorknob click into place, he turned stiffly towards his remaining companion. The Auror was looking at him oddly, as if wondering what else they had to talk about.

         Potter broke the silence. "What else do we have to talk about?"

         _So predictable_ , Draco thought to himself.

         "Why all this?" he finally said, frown on his face where his Malfoy Mask would usually hid his emotions. "Why even suggest the _Solum Sanctuarii_ bindings? It's too much for just this... situation."

         "Your family has been threatened, Malfoy," the man deadpanned. "There's no higher security that we can provide. We don't even know who or what exactly might be 'taken' from you, we have no idea when or where the possible attack might happen. We cannot take this lightly because there are too many unidentified factors for us to be sure of your safety."

         "There must be other ways," Draco insisted. Potter shook his head.

        "A Fidelius would grant your family extreme secrecy, but by itself would hamper your daily life if _you_ were to remain hidden indefinitely. I don't even need you to tell me that neither your mother nor your wife would be amenable to that option."

         Draco bit his lip. Potter was right.

         "And the whole idea is to bait this mysterious enemy of yours and have them become frustrated at your lack of fear. Seeing you go about with your daily itinerary will hopefully lead them to question why you didn't feel threatened. People who go about such methods always want attention, they want you to notice them and make it all about them. They want you to react to them. The best way to deal with that is to show them that you don't give a fuck."

         "But I do," Draco said meekly. When it was his family on the line, he meant business.

         Potter seemed to follow his train of thought. "Narcissa and Astoria can be safely hidden within the Manor, especially since you said that they don't mind having to stay within the Manor's wards and under the Fidelius. Neither of them are expected to appear around in the British public, so their extended absence will likely be overlooked. Astoria can say that she has decided to take the time to care for Scorpius, in case anyone who matters asks. But you, you have to be able to leave the Manor's protection to work, and my _Solum Sanctuarii_ wards can add to your already formidable layers of protection."

         Draco bit his lip. Potter frowned. "What?" he asked.

         "Well..." How could he explain it when even he couldn't understand how and why he felt this way? "You do remember that S _olum Sanctuarii_ isn't just warding... it's a magical binding ritual."

         "Yes, I knew that," Potter said calmly, nodding in assent.

         "Then you know how much goes into these bindings..."

         "I've already done it plenty of times," the Auror offered, shrugging. "If that's what makes you so nervous. It won't be the first time I do this."

         Draco looked at him, surprised. He knew about Ginevra, and assumed the same for Weasley and Hermione too, would be obvious recipients of the benefits of _Solum Sanctuarii._ It was very serious magic and one couldn't spread it too thinly. Theoretically, the possibilities were limitless, no matter the number of people and distance. But realistically, very few people ever had a strong enough magical core and personal intent to empower and maintain any more than a handful of loved ones.

         At his expression, Potter chuckled good naturedly. "Apart from Ginny, Ron and Hermione, I've also included Neville, Luna and the Weasleys."

         " _All of them?!_ " Draco gasped. That was a lot of people.

         "Of course," Potter replied nonchalantly, as if the conversation hadn't just confirmed to Draco the extent of magical power he might be hiding in his very average-looking self. "I'd do anything to make sure that they were all safe. They mean too much to me."

         "Yes, but you've just given me a short list of your closest friends. They're practically family. That makes sense. But me..." He faltered, not knowing where he was going with his argument. Why was he against this idea? He would gain extra protection. He could have Astoria, Narcissa and Scorpius all under Harry Potter's protection.

         The man in question had remained silent, perhaps waiting for Draco to finish what he was saying. "It's too much," was all he could come up with.

         "Too much?" Potter repeated with disbelief. "I want you safe, Malfoy, how is that too much?"

         "It's just..."

         _It's too intimate_ , his inner voice supplied bitingly. _You don't want to admit it, but you can't stand the thought of being bonded to Harry Potter._

 _"_ Seriously, it's not a big deal," Potter said stubbornly. "Just agree already."

         "It is a big deal," Draco insisted, though weakly, given that he had no real argument other than his insecurities. "I am very well versed in the concept of _Solum Sanctuarii_ , you know," he said smugly. "And I know perfectly well the... depth... of the requirements to successfully bind someone else to your protection."

         "I'm pretty sure we'll manage," Potter sighed. He looked impatiently bored, which flustered Draco even more. Why could Potter not see his point?!

 

***

 

         _Why is he against this?_ Harry couldn't help but ask himself for the seventh time. In front of him, Malfoy seemed to shrink into himself. Not physically, of course, but Harry felt like he knew his old nemesis at a level so profound that every little gesture of nerves that the blond showed was enough for Harry to imagine what he might be feeling. It was so very rare to see Malfoy shrinking metaphorically, when all he had ever done was to make sure that everyone knew he was larger than life. The sight went against all he believed Malfoy should be, which made him take a different tactic.

         "I'm not stupid," he said matter-of-factly. "I learned all the intricacies of S _olum Sanctuarii_ inside and out. I know the requirements to successfully shield someone else, and I know exactly how much it demands. And I think we can easily fulfill that. Stop being so stubborn and just accept my offer!"

        Malfoy's hand clenched ever so slightly at his words, so Harry knew he was on the right track. He had guessed correctly. Malfoy didn't believe he could fulfill the requirements of the ritual.

         "But..." Malfoy seemed so lost at the moment, but he found his words. "Okay. Let's get real here. The three important aspects of extending your bindings."

         Harry nodded.

         Malfoy just scoffed. "One, immediate proximity. Two, a deep emotional bond that is mutual in nature Three, a sincere intent to protect and cherish. So how do you suggest we get more than one of those?" he finally spat out.

         "I don't see the problem," Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "We fulfill all three. So what's our point?"

         "We fulfill... can you hear yourself?" Malfoy sputtered.

         Harry groaned in irritation. This meeting was not at all going as planned. All the blond had to say was yes. "One," he said somewhat forcefully than intended while counting out with his fingers. "you are right here next to me and that is close enough. Two," he continued, waving two fingers in front of Malfoy's face, "I care about you and I think the same goes the other way around. Three," and this time he poked his three fingers into Malfoys chest. "Three, not even your stubbornness will prevent me from doing so. I want to protect you and I will."

         "It's too much trouble, Potter," Malfoy sighed. "It's not worth it, I assure you."

         This time, it was Harry's turn to sigh. "Just shut it, alright? You, Malfoy, you are worth it."

        To the Auror's satisfaction, the blonde had nothing more coherent to say, and Malloy's unconscious imitation of a gaping fish pretty much told Harry that he had won this round. Now, all that was left to do was figure out was how to actually apprehend the mystery suspect.

 

***

 

         The ritual itself was quite simple enough to plan for, and the delay was more a matter of conflicting schedules than actual need for preparation. For Draco, those few days before the act had burned him inside with a sort of mixture between shame, guilt, and elation. It was pretty straightforward, at least for such an ancient and theoretically complicated bit of magic.

         Extending _Solum Sanctuarii_ to someone else was seemingly simple enough of a ritual, because its depth of complexity depended wholly on magical power, concentration and emotion. It was mostly Potter clasping Draco's right hand and intoning the long and ancient Latin chant that invoked the bindings he intended to form between them. Such old rituals relied purely on Magic, with a capital 'M'', and demanded very clear focus and a strong combination of intent and emotion towards the person being covered by _Solum Sanctuarii_. It was all very personal, a delicate twining of magical cores, initially reserved only for the closest of family.

         Throughout the process, Draco still couldn't wrap his head around what was actually happening. Especially when he knew that some parts of the chant included very heavily laden connotations, roughly translated to terms such as 'dear', 'beloved' and 'heart of hearts'. The irony of it all did not escape him.

         The Boy Who Lived was willingly binding himself to a Former Death Eater slash Nemesis.

         It was over before they'd even realized. Draco, being aware of the procedure in theory, expected a brief clashing of torsos, shoulders and arms, lasting just long enough to satisfy the physical proximity that the last part of the ritual required. He was surprised, therefore, when they both ended up holding onto each other in a much firmer embrace, lasting just a little longer than was actually required.

         Neither said anything about it, and they felt the magic dissolve between them. The fact that the invocation had even settled threw Draco off. Because it meant that they really fulfilled the requirements, most significantly the emotional connection and the intent to protect. It all felt so... intimate.

         Potter broke the silence.

         "I told you so," he said softly with a grin.

         Draco couldn't help it. There was something about Potter's beaming smile that made his own lip quirk up in response. "Yes," he whispered, "you did."

 

***

 

         Several weeks passed after the bindings were invoked for Malfoy when the next threat came. Harry rubbed frustratingly at his eyes in a valiant effort to wake himself up enough as he leaned a bit closer to the fire where Malfoy's face hovered, full of concern.

         "That's all it said? No other telltale marks or hidden traces of anything?"

         The blond shook his head. "Nothing. Even my elves confirmed the absence of such traces."

         Harry thought about the message. "' _They were never yours_ '," he muttered. "That doesn't make much sense if they mean your mother or Astoria..."

         "I thought so, too," Malfoy nodded frantically.

         Harry used his consoling tone of voice in order to soothe his friend's nerves a bit. "Don't worry about it, we'll put it together at the MMI. This is still a fairly standard pattern for threats. Your continued exposure to the public as well as your apparent disregard for the threats to your life are probably causing them to feel dissatisfied. They'll be wanting to cause a reaction in you. It'll be an insult to them that you don't care, and it'll come to a head. That's when we can catch them."

         "You sound so sure."

         Harry gave a hollow laugh. "You can put your faith in my department, a hundred percent. We've looked into the minds of so many damn criminals that it's become second nature to see things their way. That's why I pushed for the MMI in the first place. I learned from the war that... well, you really do have to keep your enemies closer."

         Malfoy shuddered, which Harry thought was odd to watch seeing as he was a head floating in tongues of flame. He was probably thinking of Voldemort, too, but neither of them acknowledged it.

        "I know I can trust your team," Malfoy suddenly said. "I trust _you._ "

         Harry couldn't avoid the warm flush he felt on his cheeks at the unprompted compliment.

         "Er.. that's good," he finally replied. "Um, thanks, I guess. It's my job though, plus Ron and I would never let anything bad happen to you."

         It seemed it was Malfoy's turn to turn pink, but Harry decided not to comment on it. It was still too early to think of such things, after all.

         "Anyway," he continued, "we can formally go over all of this at the Ministry day after tomorrow, unless you'd like to go ahead there later today without me. Sooner is always better after all. I'm sure the team is more than capable of handling this new piece of evidence."

         "You're off today?"

         Harry nodded. "Plus tomorrow. Ginny won't be able to stay with the kids and Arthur and Molly have gone back to France, so I'll have my hands full. If things go well on her end, she might have to go iron out some contract formalities with her team. So if ever, I'll probably work from home again for the next week or two."

         Malfoy gave a non-committal sound. Harry knew the man was already quite familiar with the interesting system that he and Ginny had established. "If you need me, you know where to find me," he added.

         "Thanks again... Potter."

         "Hey," Harry found himself saying with a sigh. "I'm honestly getting tired of hearing that from you. This game of ours has gone on for too long I think."

         Malfoy snickered. "Are you saying you surrender first?"

         "What are you, twelve?"

         The blond shrugged. "I'm milking it."

         Harry snorted. "I just think it's time we've grown up."

         "Speak for yourself. I've been way ahead."

         "You're such an arsehole sometimes."

         "You're one all the time."

         They both ended up laughing at their pointless conversation. Finally Harry couldn't take it anymore.

         "Just say it."

         "Fine... Harry." Malfoy made a face as if he were sucking on a lemon, but Harry knew him well enough to know that he was just being the prat he was.

         "See, was that so hard?"

         "Say mine, then," Malfoy demanded.

         Harry realized that it was much harder than he thought to get it to come out smoothly and naturally, but he got it anyway.

         "Draco," he enunciated, tasting the foreign name on his tongue. "Draco, Draco, Draco."

         Malfoy - no, Draco - couldn't stop himself from snorting in laughter. "It's going to be so weird thinking of you as a Harry when all my life it's been Perfect Potter, the Golden Boy."

         "I've always been just Harry," Harry mused.

         Draco looked at him oddly, but the look vanished and Harry figured that he'd imagined it.

         "I know," the blond whispered. "And I've always been just Draco."

         Harry's eyes twinkled. "I know," he parroted with a grin.

         "Well, now that's over and done with...I'll see you day after tomorrow?"

         "Alright. Goodbye... Draco."

         "Goodbye, Harry."

 

         When the Floo got cut off, Harry suddenly felt like he'd just been out flying at top speed, an odd sensation where his heart and mind felt feather-light and his body was pounding with the adrenaline of being in the air. He wondered idly what could have caused it, but soon forgot as he went about preparing for the rest of the day, mentally filing away the new development for Mal - Draco's case.               

 

***

 

         Despite the threat hovering just beyond the horizon, Draco had to admit that Harry's suggestion for him to continue with his daily routine made the next few weeks much more bearable. Not only could he fluidly move as he had from habit, (still having to travel around and meet with associates concerning his various business dealings) but he also constantly felt the tug of the _Solum Sanctuarii_ within him, adding to his growing sense of safety.

         Astoria and Narcissa had agreed to stay within Malfoy Manor in the meantime, his wife tending to Scorpius and his team of child rearing elves. His mother had placed her attention to researching about the Manor's wards in an attempt to find out how the first threat had managed to break through at all. While all of them were under strictly discreet Auror protection, Draco was at least allowed to do as he pleased outside of the Manor grounds.

         This included his usual visits with his friends, old and new, as well as dropping by to see his Aunt Andromeda and his cousin Teddy.

         The little boy, just turned eight, was now a boisterous bubble of energy (or more so than he had already been when Draco had met him) but this was easily diverted by now having two outlets for his entertainment - Uncle Harry and Cousin Draco.

         Earlier last year, Andromeda had sat with her long-estranged sister and nephew, and encouraged them to foster their familial connection to Teddy. At that time, Astoria had still been expecting Scorpius, and Draco had informed his aunt that he had no experience in handling children of Teddy's age. Having heard Harry's stories had given him a rough idea of what it meant to have one's hands full of noisy, messy Metamorphmagus.

         Andromeda, however, had confronted him and said that all the experience he ever needed was to spend time with the boy. And that was that.

         Funny how, just two years ago, Draco had had no other pursuits in life but to provide for his wife, and to build the Malfoy reputation. Now that he was faced with a serious threat, it was ironic how he was slowly realizing just how much he had to lose.

         But now that reality had sunken in, Draco finally felt what it really meant to have the kind of presence in someone's life wherein you mattered much more than what you could offer to an alliance. Just the constant check ins from Hermione and Pansy, as well as the occasional call from Weasley or Blaise were enough reminders to Draco that he would always have others behind him, people who would never abandon him.

         And Potter. Harry. Bless him and his impish grin and awkward strut, always there to save the day. Not so long ago, it would have been a hard pill for Draco to swallow if he had to admit to being dependent on the Boy Who Lived.        

         Now, they had those late night fire calls, the many times they had each succumbed to crossing over to the other's hearth for several hours - not that anyone else really knew - the owls, the nudges and the two seconds wherein they could have an entire conversation with just a glare...

         Well, Draco found it hard not to smile whenever he thought about those things. Not that he was aware of the expression on his face, of course. Or maybe he was, but at this point, he was too happily distracted to actually give a damn.

 

***

 

         It was late when Harry received a very unexpected call from Malfoy Manor, but he knew in a heartbeat that it wasn't Draco. (Ron, who was having dinner at Grimmauld Place with Hermione and their children, never bothered to ask how he knew, but of course Harry never expected Malfoy to call any time before eleven).

         It was Narcissa.

         "Mr. Potter," she began with no preamble.

         "Is everything alright?" Harry inquired with slight concern. It was the first time the matriarch had ever deigned to reach him without going through Draco.

         She was pale, and her voice shook. "I'm not sure," she whispered. "I just... I know this is already under your investigation, but..."

         "You can tell us, Lady Black," Ron encouraged.

         She nodded. "It's something I felt you needed to know. I've already gone through all the ancestral documents we retain in the library and consulted every record of the Malfoy wards. The only logical explanation there is for the first letter to have come through is if it was invited by someone within."

         "Within?!" Harry repeated skeptically, exchanging a significant look with Ron. The redhead frowned. "How is that possible?"

         "I can't be sure," Narcissa pleaded. "I can attest to the strength and integrity of the wards, especially now that I have gone through the historical accounts. They're one of the most formidable defenses dating from the twelfth century, and are meant to be, well, impregnable. I know it seems a small detail, but I thought you ought to be informed."

         Harry nodded in agreement. "We appreciate your input, ma'am," he said, bowing his head slightly in the way he had observed Draco and Astoria whenever they deferred to the Malfoy matriarch. "We'll put more focus on the limitations of the wards and the... weakness... that you have pointed out."

         She replied with a slight nod and a determined look on her face. "Thank you. For everything."

         It was said so sharply that Harry knew it had been difficult to swallow her pride and thank them, which made the gesture even more significant.

         "We're glad to help," Ron answered for him. "Remember, it’s our job to help people."

         Narcissa looked at him with a calculating look. "Yes, but not everyone would drop everything to help a Malfoy, much less my son."

         "We're taking this very personally," Harry interjected somewhat fiercely. "Draco is our friend, and we would do anything to keep him out of harm. His family included."

         "It eases my worries to see you so dedicated," she said finally. "Thank you."

         When they had finally ended the call, Ron turned toward Harry. "It doesn't make sense. How in the hell could our mystery person have gotten access into the wards if they needed to be invited in? Lucius is out, and Malfoy, Astoria and Narcissa are the ones under threat. It can't have been the elves, they're bound by ancient magic...and an ancient set of wards like that... how?"

         Harry agreed with Ron's ramblings, brows scrunched together in thought. "How, indeed?"

 

 


	27. Curiouser and Curiouser

**(Present, 2007)**

           The threatening messages ceased for a while, which Macmillan told Draco was typically expected.

            "See here, Malfoy," the Auror said, indicating old parchment records of previous cases. "There's typically a lull in threatening activity for stalkers especially in cases like yours where we've chosen to act as if it isn't to be taken seriously. They take it as an insult that you don't care, so they bide their time until they can't help it. When they blow off their top, that's usually when they do something careless and lead us right to 'em!"

            He said this all exuberantly, obviously enjoying the thrill of the chase, so that Draco couldn't keep the corner of his mouth from quirking up in amusement. At least his investigative team actually liked working his case.

            Perkins ( _Ella_ , Draco reminded himself) chose that moment to walk into the room with a flustered blush. She shuffled a wad of parchment towards Weasley, who was sitting at the head of the conference table putting together what the rest of the team had assembled that week.

            "This from Tracking?" the redhead asked without looking at Ella, not that he waited for her to answer anyway. He lay down the papers and leaned back, rubbing his eyes.

            "Good news?" asked Rogers ( _Apollo_ , thought Draco).

            Weasley sighed. "Not sure. The researchers over at Tracking got some information from the cross comparison of the two letters."

            Draco felt his heart stop. Maybe they finally had enough to move forward and find out the identity of the person harassing him. "Is it a lead?"

            "It might be," Ella replied gently. "I used to work with Tracking before moving to MMI, so I know how thorough their process can be. All I've been able to submit for their analysis were the two cards and the envelopes they came in, but at least we now have a narrower frame of reference."

            "A frame of reference?" Draco repeated, looking skeptical.

            Weasley nodded. "It says here that rigorous magical testing has proven the cards to have been produced, processed, and sold exclusively in France. The parchment used has no Muggle derivatives to compromise the magical tests, and it's evident that the first card had never left French soil, which does narrow down our leads."

            "But…" Draco felt his brows furrow as he gathered his thoughts, "I thought that the message was only sent there because Astoria and I were scheduled to be there…this means…"

            Weasley shook his head, looking grave. "It seems that the first threat wasn't sent from here at all. Whoever it was… was actually in France with you. But I'm still sure that they're from here, or know you from here."

            Apollo nodded in agreement. "It makes sense that the source would be from the British wizarding community since there is a certain degree of familiarity with Mr. Malfoy, perhaps a history. But still… whoever this is we're tracking down was at least in France for long enough to plan, produce and send the first card."

            "That's… preposterous…" Draco whispered, deep in thought. "Why would anyone take such extreme measures to intimidate me? I can't think of anyone who has a deep enough grudge against me."

            "Someone's pretty damn dedicated," Macmillan interrupted. "If they've been tailing you since before you left for France, then followed you there, it's gotta be serious business."

            "It could be anyone, though," Draco argued. "Narrowing this down to a British magical who hates the Malfoys and has traveling access to the continent isn't much help when you think about it."

            Ella's expression brightened. "Not everyone had the clearance to travel internationally in the window that you and Astoria were jumping from here to France and back. There was probably higher security for the event you went to, what with the international heads and all. I'm sure the French government would have controlled traffic. That could be another angle to check."

            Weasley nodded in approval, noting it down. "Ernie, you go over to Lucas, he's still got pull within the International Magical Transportation office. Tell him to ask for the list of British wizards or witches who went in and out of France within two weeks before and after the Malfoys were there."

            Macmillan nodded, patting Draco on the back before rushing out the room.

            "The next one will be sooner," Weasley pronounced with confidence. "We'll just have to keep an eye out for it."

            Draco let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He really wished Harry could be here. At least the man could put things in perspective and at least calm Draco's nerves.

 

***

 

            Harry trusted Ron's predictions. After all, their field experience was enough to make educated guesses. The two had been exchanging updates about the reports while Harry was back to working from home. He knew it must have been unsettling for Draco to learn that his stalker was following him so closely, but he himself had experienced it with various other criminals who all thought they were being creative. At this point, Draco's dismissal of the first two threats would result in a need to be taken seriously. They needn't have waited for too long.

            It came through the Malfoy wards once again. This time, it said, ' _They will be mine again_.

            Harry insisted that Draco come through that night when Ginny and the kids were already asleep. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I know it can't have been easy for you lately…"  

            Draco waved him off. "Weasley was right. His predictions have been accurate so far. It's hard to feel scared when I've got a good team on my case."  

            Harry couldn't keep the grin from appearing on his face. "We aim to please," he quipped.

            They settled in their usual past-midnight habit of sharing a bit of Firewhiskey between the two of them and just basking in the warmth of the fire. Not that anyone really knew how often this type of thing happened. Though it wasn't as if they were hiding some terrible secret.

            No, they just both preferred to keep this personal stuff between the two of them.

            "How are Narcissa and Astoria?" Harry ventured. He wasn't too close to either, since he only saw them at the few social events he actually attended. They were nice, and they'd had some good conversations, but the connection would not have held the _Solum Sanctuarii_.

            "They're fine," Draco replied. "The Fidelius makes it a bit difficult for Astoria to conduct her social life as normally as mine, but she's making do. Being threatened can do that to you."

            "I'm surprised you can joke about it, especially since we've found how… dedicated… this person is proving to be." Harry couldn't avoid lacing his statement with the worry that had been plaguing him since this all started. "I hope Narcissa has at least calmed down. I haven't heard from her since that random Floo call, so I guess that's a good sign."

            Draco laughed, which made Harry smile again for some reason. "Mother is used to conducting her social life within the Manor," the blond explained. "It wasn't too much of a change for her. The Fidelius has only helped to boost her confidence that any actual danger apart from life-threatening cards will be kept out."

            "I won't let it get to that, you know," Harry said, bristling a bit at the thought of any harm befalling Draco.

            "You've got such a bad case of savior's complex, you know that?"

            "You've been talking too much with Hermione," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

            "She might have mentioned what she thought of your saving-people-thing, maybe once or twice," Draco smirked, tipping the rest of his drink into his mouth in one gulp. "But I could always see that for myself."

            "Hey-"

            "It's just so blatantly obvious."

            Harry's train of thought turned serious in a heartbeat when he sensed the undertone in Draco's statement. "It really bothers you, doesn't it? That I do this for you?"

            Something in the blonde's expression shifted, but there was only silence, which made Harry think he made the right conclusions.

            "Look," he said, trying to even out his tone. "I don't know how many more times I can say this, but please, _please_ just take it for what it is. I care about you and want to help you. It's not because of some stupid concept of debt or anything. I just… want to protect you."

            "Sometimes…" Draco whispered, "sometimes it's just hard to admit to myself, that I feel so weak sometimes and have to depend on you. Remember the Fiendfyre? And… at the trials… now this. This binding you've willingly shared with me of all people…"

            "You forget I almost offed you single handedly in that bathroom," Harry said sharply, in an effort to bring Draco away from his maudlin thoughts. "I'm not a saint, you know. Yes, I care when people get hurt, but this is just really personal for me and I don't care who saves who. You've saved me, too, at the Manor. I'll never forget that."

            Draco was pink in the face, but Harry had a harder time guessing what he was thinking until he actually spoke.

            "Harry, you have to understand, I was raised with so many expectations. Growing up within the hierarchy of pureblood society… we're used to objective things, situations we can predict, alliances we can make, debts we can pay. I can't help but calculate everything that's happened and I hate that I owe you-"

            " _You don't owe me anything!_ " Harry exclaimed. "Maybe that's how your world works, but not mine, and I'm telling you to quit thinking like we're in one big monopoly game. I'm not going to suddenly call in a debt or whatever, that's just stupid-"

            "It's-"

            "-if that's what you think about our friendship, then fuck if I've been fooling myself by believing we had something, and I really thought we did and it just fucking annoys the hell out of me how you just can't comprehend that I value whatever the hell we've got going on and it seems like you don't see it the same way-"

            "Har-"

            "-and I'm getting tired of having to remind you that you mean a lot to me, and Ron and Hermione and it's nothing you'll ever have to pay for-"

            " _Shut up, Potter!"_ Draco hissed.

            Harry abruptly shut his mouth, effectively ending his rant before he could finish.

            The blonde looked at him with fiery eyes. "I didn't mean to upset you, but I was trying to make my point when you so rudely interrupted me." He glared at Harry, and the latter had the decency to look embarrassed.

            "Sorry," Harry said meekly. "Er, please continue."

            Draco scowled. " _Thank you_. As I was saying, I hate that I feel like I owe you for so much _, and_ I am ever thankful that you go out of your way to remind me that it really is the way it is, with no strings attached and no price to pay."

            "Oh." Harry looked dumbly at Draco, feeling even more so on the inside. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, guess I got carried away there…"

            Draco snorted. "Just a bit, wouldn't you say? Although I did appreciate hearing your rather violent rant. I've never felt more special to anyone before."

            Harry knew it was meant as a joke, but he couldn't help but think it over in his head. How special _was_ Draco to him? Because now that he stopped to think about it, there was definitely something much deeper than friendship when he thought about the prat.

            He didn't realize that he hadn't responded until he felt Draco poking him in the arm.

            "Sorry, once again our conversation ended up being too serious."

            Harry brushed off the apology. "Come off it. We're mature enough to handle serious matters. I mean, I admit I quite enjoy our talks anyway, regardless of whether they're just stupid or whatever."

            "How eloquent," Draco said with a smile.

            "And now we're back to the light."

            "You could take a turn at melancholy, too."

            Harry groaned. "As if my life hasn't been one huge cauldron of angst. I need the laughs more, I think. I'm sure anything is better to talk about than my life."

            Draco turned serious again. "How are things with Ginevra?"

            Harry laughed to himself. He thought it was amusing that Draco always insisted on calling her by her full name. Probably some pureblood thing. "We're… doing what we can," he answered shortly. "It's not perfect yet, but we’re dealing with it."

            "Is it… good?"

            "Well.…we fight. We make up. We compromise a lot. We're not exactly going by the book, so we're kind of… making it up as we go along."

            Draco considered for a moment. "Why don't you get nurse elves?"

            Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Kreacher's pretty good at it. And I've told you, Ginny and I want to raise our kids first hand. No elves. Not that there's anything wrong with that," he quickly added for good measure, "but it's just not me."

            "Alright. I'm glad you've at least made some sense of that mess."

            "Thanks, I guess?"

            Draco laughed. "I mean it. That situation was a very difficult one, and you're lucky that you and Ginevra could at least compromise. It wouldn't have been so easy in a pureblood marriage, let me tell you that."

            "Can't you break a contract or something?" Harry asked, interested. Ron had tried to give him a better idea of traditional marriages before, but Harry never really paid any attention.

            "The contracts depend on magic. Before a marriage, the families can cancel betrothal contracts at any time. Traditionally though, a child changes things, because breaking a contract can mess up a lot things for the heirs and their hierarchy."

            Harry sighed dramatically. "Ah, you purebloods and your rigid ideas…"

            Draco laughed. "Yeah, well, I'm just relieved I had an easy time of it. Mind you, Astoria did put up a fight."

            It was Harry's turn to laugh. "So did Gin. Maybe that's what drew me to her, come to think of it. Never really had a lot of people say things straight to my face. Even Ron and Hermione are sometimes careful of what they say to me. Ginny was just up in my face if she wanted."

            "That’s… not really a picture I want painted in my head," Draco said, face scrunched.

            "You're disgusting," Harry laughed. "You know what I meant."

            "I was joking," Draco assured him. "I must say, I find it marvelous that we can jump from one depressing topic onto a completely absurd one."

            "I find it quite easy to talk with you. Whatever the topic, actually. I'm sure we could spend hours and hours just exchanging banter and not tiring of it.

            "Hours and hours."

            Harry nodded. "Historically proven, too."

            "Speaking of which, holy Merlin, it's late!" Draco suddenly said, setting down his empty glass and walking gracefully towards the fire. "Thank you for having me over. I know it's a bit of a rush, but we really mustn't make it a habit to stay over too long." He smiled warmly at Harry, which made the latter flush slightly. "I'll tell Mother and Astoria about the updates and get back to you. Or the team. Whoever will be available."

            Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. Draco was leaving already? He had gotten so used to having him around for much longer.

            "Er, alright," he managed to blurt out as Draco helped himself to the Floo powder. "Mind your head, wouldn't want to damage your overinflated ego."

            "Oh, I'd worry more about the other head I've got," Draco smirked.

            "Eugh, that was terrible!"

            "You asked for it."

            "Fuck you."

            Draco rolled his eyes. "You really _are_ asking for it."

            Groaning in exasperation, Harry finally shoved Draco into the hearth. "Just go already!"

            "Fine, fine," said Draco with a little snicker. "So when would you like to fu-"

            " _Sod off_!"

 

***

 

            When Draco informed his family what Harry and Weasley had told him about the threat patterns, he was expecting some general feeling of relief. He didn't expect his mother to grow even stonier, nor his wife to be more anxious.

            Astoria, who was already somewhat pale in complexion, was as white as a ghost. Draco even had the theory that she refused to hold Scorpius often so as not giveaway how badly she was shaking nowadays. He had never seen her lose composure before, and it worried him that this entire situation was affecting her in such a way.

            "Darling," he crooned, kneeling in front of her and taking her delicate hand in his. "There is nothing to worry about now. The investigation is going smoothly, and even the actions of this mysterious stalker have been by the book."

            Narcissa paced slowly in front of them. Her expression as cold as the marble under her feet, though Draco was sure that there was a blazing inferno underneath the ice.

            "What is it, Mother?" he asked.

            She halted, turning her blue eyes, so striking in their sharpness, on her son. "My concern grows for every day that this… matter… remains unsolved." She held up her hand imperiously when Draco moved to defend his friends. "Yes, my dragon, I know that Potter's little team has been providing us with their assistance. However, there is much about our situation that worries me, as they are so closely intertwined with the ancient magicks of our family."

            Astoria let out a quiet sob, perhaps unaware that she had made any noise at all. Draco smoothed his hand against hers, trying to find a way to alleviate her physical tension.

            Narcissa's brows furrowed, which Draco knew she usually avoided. "I've looked through every record in our library, and I still cannot figure out how the threats can keep breaking through the Manor's wards! It vexes me that something so straightforward cannot be explained. The person must either be allowed into the wards or be part of it. It does not make sense!"

            Draco bit his lip. He hadn't thought he'd ever see his wife, let alone his own mother, lose their head when they were always so good at controlling their reactions. Perhaps he had been experiencing the whole thing differently, being under Harry's personal safety net and not a mere Fidelius.

            "We're to expect the next threat soon, after the lull," he said slowly, hoping that he didn't worsen the current mood. They needed to address these issues so that everyone was on the same page. "We're not to show any reactions regardless of what they might send us. The Aurors are confident that the next one will be careless, and will provide enough information for them to track down the criminal."

            "We can call up other blood wards. Not just the Malfoy ones."

            Draco considered his mother's idea. The Malfoy wards were formidable, but so were the Black Family wards. Maybe those two combined…

            "I know who it is! I can't keep silent any longer!"

            Both mother and son turned abruptly to stare at Astoria, who was now visibly shaking. She disengaged her hand from Draco's and ended up hugging herself, as if trying to keep warm despite the lack of cold around them.

            Had Draco mistaken what he heard? "Pardon?" he asked somewhat sharply. Astoria flinched.

            "I've been - I've been thinking about it, and it all adds up! This man - he - he used to court me - that was b-before we - he was always so aggressive and I dismissed the courtship from him and - oh I don't know, I'm afraid to tell you but I'm sick of hiding, and I'm scared of what he might resort to just to get revenge!"

            Narcissa tried to soften her expression, but failed. "How would he have gotten into the wards?"

            "I don't know!" Astoria cried, shaking her head. "I don't know, I'm sorry I can't tell you much more. I'm just sure it’s him, I'm sure! Please don't be angry at me!"

            Draco fell into the seat next to his wife and held her closely, securely. "Hush, darling, no reason for us to be angry. Well, perhaps you could have mentioned your suspicions sooner, but… well at least we have someone. Once the Aurors apprehend him, then everything will be back to normal."

            "I still need to know how he could be getting through the wards," Narcissa said flatly. "Excuse me."

            As the woman strode out of the room, Draco remained and helped to calm down Astoria's sobbing.

            "Thank you for telling us, darling," he said softly, whispering in her ear. "I'll get right on it and tell the MMI. You should go and rest. We can spend time with Scorpius later, perhaps that will help to think of other, happier things in the meantime."

 

***

 

            "So, the guy lives in Vienna?"

            "Yes," Draco's green flame-head replied. "But he did grow up here, and only moved there sometime after the drama with the Greengrasses."

            Harry nodded absently, worrying the tip of his quill with his teeth. He was trying to put things together in his head, as was his habit. Ron was more about taking down notes, something Hermione had pretty much trained him to do.

            "William Howe…William Howe… " Apollo muttered as he cast a spell that went through an index that Harry was very familiar with, having put a lot of names there, himself.

            "Nothing in the old records?" Draco asked from the fire.

            Ella shook her head. "So far… no red flags, no history, wow, not even a minor. The guy must be good at keeping under the radar."

            "Under the what?" Ron asked.

            "Sorry, muggle term," Ella apologized. "Anyway, most of us have at least one minor infraction before the Trace is gone, mostly for accidental magic that's easily excusable by magical parents-"

            Harry couldn't help but snort in derision. _His_ experiences were nothing minor when it came to underage magic.

            Ella was still speaking. Apollo's spell had faded with no results. "That's it, no hits on a William Howe. If he's our guy… it's no wonder he's hard to pin down."

            Harry stabbed his quill into the parchment in agitation. "Apollo, assemble a Tracking team and lead the search to Vienna. Ella can secure the necessary permits for the ministry. I'll get a hold of Lucas myself, fix the transportation." He turned over to Draco. "I'm sorry, was there anything else from Astoria?"

            Draco shook his head. "No, that was all. But I was wondering…Er, Weasley?"

            Ron jumped at hearing his name. "Yes?"

            Harry could see the blonde waver, but then steel his resolve in a second. "I'd like to authorize the monitoring charms you told me about." "What?" Harry was shocked. "Are you sure? I thought you despised the idea of being trailed and tracked by Aurors?"

            "I don't want my family to know. As head of the Malfoys, I do hold the privilege of authorizing such things discreetly." He turned pleadingly to Ron. "Please? Will you do it?"

            Ron sighed. "Yeah, sure, mate, s'long as you're really alright with it."

            When Draco nodded, Harry caught his attention. "We'll be able to record where you've been. We'd be able to pinpoint your location if necessary. Are you sure?" He knew how fussy Draco was with his privacy.

            "I'd like to cover all bases."

            Harry nodded his understanding. Alright. We've got everything to get this approved by tonight. I'll call when it pushes through."

            Draco thanked them all, then dissolved into the fire. Harry sat back while Ron stretched. "Well," said the redhead, "let's get this party started."

 

***

 

            Draco found his mother in her chambers.

            "I've just informed the MMI of our latest… development. They're already fixing up a tracking team and hope to apprehend this William Howe from Vienna."

            Narcissa nodded approvingly. "They work fast."

            "They're very serious about helping us, you know," Draco mused. "It would probably be better if we actually trusted them to do their job."

            "Historically, the Ministry, and its Aurors, were not always so deserving of such trust."

            "Harry and Ron have changed much with their fledgling department."

            Narcissa looked at Draco with curiosity. "Was there any particular reason you had to track me down here yourself?"

            Suddenly remembering his reason for coming, Draco cleared his throat. "You mentioned earlier, something about other blood wards?"

            Narcissa's expression seemed to relax. "Yes. My family did have their fair share of ancient magic. We Blacks weren't an Ancient and Noble House for nothing."

            Draco worried his bottom lip. "The Malfoy wards have been failing, so I'm hoping we can rely on Black wards until Howe is secured. I… Please decide which one is the best, and… use it to protect Scorpius. "

            Narcissa rushed forward to embrace him. "Oh my dragon, I would do anything to protect you. And Scorpius. Yes, it won't be difficult to find a strong enough ward for his safety. I must begin looking…"

            She rushed out, leaving him in her dust. Draco, however, now had a small smile on his face. If anything terrible occurred, at least he could guarantee the safety of his only child.

 


	28. Making the Connection

**(Present, 2007)**

       "We really have to talk about this, Gin."

       Ginny bit her lip but made her way towards the couch opposite Harry. It was one of those rare days when she didn't stay at the training grounds with the rest of the Harpies, so Harry knew that he had to seize the moment.

       "I think it's pretty clear with our established schedule so far that you'll be spending much more time away from here than me," he continued.

       Harry thought about how it may have sounded too accusing, or too blunt, but this really was something they had to discuss before things became okay again. Also, his temper was a bit short today, what with all the complications in Draco's case as well as the fact that Teddy had begun his early phases of rebellion by refusing to do what the adults told him.

       Ginny sighed. "I know. I'm trying to balance it out, but I'm not that good at handling the kids and it's definitely not for lack of effort."

       Harry frowned. Both of them had noticed that James took to his father much better than to his mum. Despite all the alternate hours they had set up with the boys, Ginny couldn't seem to offer the kind of comfort that their eldest found in Harry. It was both warming and disheartening at the same time.

       "I know that I'm not exactly in the running to be mother-of-the-year," Ginny said sadly, "but I really do want to be here for them, but I don't know what else I can do."

       "It's not like we can just give up on this," Harry said, perhaps a little scathingly. "Yes, I know that this wasn't part of our plan, at least this early on, but we've got to make this work somehow… and we're struggling as it is."

       "They definitely like you better, though," Ginny pouted. "That much is obvious."

       "It's only for Jamie, and only because you were away so often in his first year. Of course he'll be more familiar with me."

       Ginny remained silent for a long time that Harry felt concerned. He took her hand and waited patiently.

       Finally, she took a deep breath. "It sounds stupid, but it's only clearer now that this really wasn't the right decision for either of us."

Harry couldn't help but laugh hollowly. "No, it wasn't. But we can't exactly complain at this point."

       "Two children, Harry. We have two beautiful children, and it's so unexpected and beyond our scope, and I'm scared and terrified because we're fucking _parents._ "

       Harry gave her a pointed look. "Again, too late for any epiphanies. But really, we have to figure out the rest of the way. So far, I've been able to juggle going to the Ministry and working from home. And you've been able to talk Odair into a more lenient schedule. Where do we go from here?"

       "There's something I've actually been wanting to talk to you about…"

       Harry raised an eyebrow. "What?"

       Ginny chewed on her lower lip, which Harry knew meant that she was trying to find the best words to soften the heavy blow that she was about to give. "Erm… I was actually thinking of… well, I'm not exactly the best parent, but shuffling the kids between us every other week just isn't working. In fact, I think it makes Jamie have more tantrums."

       "Gin…"

       "It's a fact that I can't exactly handle them when I'm by myself, at least not at this point. But I… well, it's crossed my mind before… erm…"

       Harry's expression turned cold. "You're not thinking of leaving, are you? You wouldn't _dare_!"

       Ginny immediately held her hands up in defense. "No!" she cried. "No I'm not! But about where the kids stay… I think it's better for them to stay in one home until they're much older and can understand our family situation…"

       Harry leaned back and thought back. So far, they had been able to take turns in watching the kids so they both had enough time to take care of their own responsibilities while also being there for their children. However, this sometimes involved sudden exchanges between Grimmauld Place and the Burrow, where Molly and Arthur now lived again after moving back from France (Ron and Hermione having been given the use of Shell Cottage for their own family.)

       Molly, whom Harry suspected was trying to compensate for the failed relationship between him and Ginny, was helping her only daughter to deal with her unplanned motherhood for the few days a week that they had James and Albus. Ginny could have stayed the whole time at Grimmauld Place, but she insisted on staying with Molly and Arthur when she had the kids, in an attempt to 'give Harry some space'. They then shared the weekends, back at Number Twelve again, unless either of them were called to work on short notice, or the occasional big Weasley Sunday lunch was arranged.

       "I've said it before, Gin. We can all stick with this house for as long as we need," Harry said tiredly. "The flat isn't enough space, so this is the obvious choice. And we have our own rooms and everything, so I don't see a problem."

       Ginny shook her head. "Maybe for now, sure, but… what about in the future? What if… well, I'm sure we'll have to reassess our living arrangements when we'll both need to have our own space again."

       "Gin, that's just stupid," Harry countered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't think of any reason we'll need much more space than what we have here. Your own room is still right _there_ ," he insisted, gesturing towards one of the rooms upstairs. "There are so many extra rooms and floors that we can probably have our own floor if need be."

       "I know, Har," Ginny said before turning a bit red in the cheeks. "But… well, what about when we both eventually have to bring other people over? Won't that be just… weird?"

       "Other people…" It took a while before Harry understood what she meant. "Like… _oh._ "

       "Yes, oh," Ginny said, nodding her head with amusement, as if talking to a toddler. "Let's be realistic here. I love you, Harry, I really do and I love our boys, but think about it. Somewhere along the way, it'll be inevitable. You and I both will eventually meet someone, fall _in love_ with them, and want to take them home. What then?"

       "I honestly never thought… well, it never crossed my mind."

       "That we would eventually be dating other people?"

Harry nodded. "It does make sense, though. It could happen… I just wasn't counting on it."

       Ginny squeezed his hand with both of hers. "Look, I don't mean to say that what we had, or maybe even still have, isn't significant. It is. You have been such a big part of my life and I'm happy that we have two beautiful boys as a testament to our love. That's not something you can just regret, you know. It's just more obvious to me now that our love just isn't the romantic kind, and we will probably find that in other people. Someday."

       "I can't see myself with anyone else just yet," Harry admitted with a grimace. Ginny just shook her head and smiled. "I mean, you're right. What we have… is real and strong, but it isn't… well, I don't know. I don't exactly have a good track record for dating. It's always just been you, that I haven't even thought about finding someone else I might actually be in love with after all of this."

       "You will. You're Harry Potter. You're destined for great things, it's just who you are. I bet you, you'll find her in the most unlikely of places. Then you'll eat your words."

       Harry just scoffed. "It doesn't work that way. And no, it won't happen in a while, I'm sure of that. Probably in years. Come on," he said suddenly, shaking his head and trying to change the topic. "No need for us to worry about this _now_. We’ve got other things to deal with immediately, anyway. And to answer your question, I think this house is big enough for the both of us, and then some."

       Ginny hugged him. "Okay, I guess your suggestion of having our own floors to ourselves is a good one for now. And yeah, it might not be in a while but…" She whispered conspiratorially in his ear, "When you _do_ find that lucky girl within the year, you'll owe me twenty galleons."

       Harry smirked. "So confident, Gin. You're on."

 

***

 

       Harry knew it would never exaclty be easy again with Ginny, what with two boys (or three, counting Teddy) between them. Still, he was used to going with whatever Fate threw his way.

       That was not to say that he was a little disappointed, because of course he wanted to at least be _married_ to the mother of his children… but in a way, he did enjoy being hands on with Jamie and Albus. It was as clear as Veritaserum, to anyone who had eyes, that the sons thrived under the care of their father's rather than their mother's, which had made it easier for Harry and Ginny to accept things as they were with as little contempt as possible.

       He let out a drawn out sigh and melted into the couch. Teddy climbed up onto the cushions and tugged on Harry's arm with the insistence of children his age.

       "Harry, Harry! Can we, now?"

       Harry couldn't help it; his godson looked so adorable trying to sound patiently mature while also having an expression that was full of excitement. He gave him a brilliant grin.

       "I did promise you that we could if you helped me tuck the boys in. And you did a great job!"

       Teddy beamed. "Of course I did, I'm responsible!"

       Harry pulled him closer so he could tickle him. Teddy let out squeal after squeal, and Harry was thankful that Teddy was still young enough to enjoy those.

       "Okay! Okay! I give up!" the little boy finally gasped, still giggling even though Harry had stopped his assault.

       "Reading time now?" Harry asked with a smile. The boy in front of him, now pretty much recovered from their tickle war, nodded eagerly.

       It was a very simple nightly ritual that he and Harry had unknowingly established during their long weekends together: have dinner, wash up, feed James and Albus, put them to bed, and then read together. Or at least, Harry would read aloud and Teddy would laugh at his antics.

       Harry had learned over the last year to cherish this special bonding time he had with his godson. While his own two children were still very young, Teddy provided him the semblance of a human being that he could hold conversations with, and without the black humour, occasional cynicism or sarcasm he had associated with other people. Teddy Lupin was pure and unadulterated, his vibrant childlike perspective more interesting and engaging to Harry than all the boring old farts in the Ministry.

       Was it a good thing that his wingman was a boisterous eight year old Metamorphmagus? Probably not, but Harry couldn't care less. Because it was Reading Time and both of them looked forward to it, as they always did.

       They were in the midst of a story based on one of the Weird Sisters' songs about a dancing hippogriff when Harry heard the Floo alarm from downstairs. Excusing himself (and leaving Teddy to conscientiously continue reading where they had left off), he leapt back to the lower level, all the while wondering what the call could be about. Long weekends were usually unbothered, especially this particular one when everyone was away and busy.

       He got the surprise of a lifetime when he answered. "Draco!" he exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

       Draco let out an amused chuckle. "Does my appearance always mean bad tidings to you?"

       Harry knew he meant it as a joke, but he had seriously associated the blonde's calls with a fierce wave of protectiveness.

       "No, of course not," he replied with a laugh of his own. "Just unexpected, that's all. Still a decent hour well before midnight, so you weren't on my list of people to expect."

       "Yes, well, I can be decent when I want to be," Draco smirked. "I just enjoy bothering you too much so I make it a point to check and make sure the hour is perfectly ungodly before attempting to call you."

       "How thoughtful of you," Harry said wryly. "Now, what's this about, that it called for some decency, as you so nicely put it?"

       Something changed in the expression on the Potioneer's face, which Harry noted immediately.

       "Nothing much, but…I was wondering if I could come through and we could just - perhaps talk and while away the time? Are you busy?" the blonde asked quickly.

       Harry shook his head, still smiling. "Only as busy as Teddy will make me. Come on through."

       "May I bring Scorpius along with me?"

       "Of course! The more, the merrier."

       In no time at all, Draco stood next to Harry with a sleeping Scorpius in a floating bassinet. He took a moment to dust off the soot from his robes before smiling back at Harry. "Thanks."

The brunet suddenly frowned. "Hang on. Won't Narcissa or Astoria look for him though? I don't want to be tortured and killed for kidnapping you two," he joked, aware of how protective the women could be when it came to the youngest Malfoy.

       "No, Mother is busy with her research on certain blood wards, and Astoria has several of her political circle visiting, which is why I thought to have some time with Scorpius."

       "Dracoooooooooo!"

       As usual, Teddy had not remained in his room as promised, and Harry sometimes had a feeling that his godson might have extra strong hearing abilities to have heard Draco from upstairs. His cousin didn't seem to mind, though.

       "Hello, Teddy," Draco greeted warmly, letting the little boy hug him around the legs. "You just keep on growing and growing, don't you?"

       Teddy gave him a beaming smile. "Granma says it's all real, and not just me _making_ me grow taller!"

       Draco nodded interestedly. "Is that so? Good, then! At least we know you're not cheating!" he joked.

       Harry and Draco already knew that most Metamorphmagi didn't develop the skill to change the more fundamental aspects of their body until after puberty. Teddy, at eight, would be able to change his hair and eye color easily, and some softer parts such as ears and his nose, but it wouldn't be until he was of age for him to be able to change his weight, height or skeletal structure.

       "Soon, you'll be changing much more just like your Mum," Harry said encouragingly. "So, now that we've properly received our surprise guest into our home, why don't we invite him to join our story time, eh?"

       "Yes!" the boy exclaimed, pumping his fist up in victory before grabbing his dumbfounded cousin and leading him on.

       "Go on," Harry said, "I'll Levitate Scorp to the nursery with the others."

       Draco nodded at him gratefully before disappearing up the stairwell. Harry let out a soft laugh of amusement at seeing his friend being pushed around by a little kid. With a wordless spell, he urged on the floating bassinet carefully to settle the sleeping baby with his sons. He renewed the Monitoring charms in the room and checked in with Kreacher, before turning back towards Teddy's room.

 

***

 

       "So why is it just the two of you this weekend?" Draco asked while sipping his tea. He and Harry had finally gotten Teddy to bed after an interesting session of story time - Draco would _definitely_ be adding that memory of Harry trying to 'boogie down like a unicorn' to his private Pensieve.

       Harry's voice brought him back to the present, though he still had the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

       "By chance, Ginny was called to a last minute full team assembly, Molly and Arthur went back to France because Louis has dragonpox, I think. Hermione was sent on some confidential meeting in Prague - don't ask me, no idea - and Ron took the weekend off to be her Auror escort. Andy, as you might already know, is trying to fix up the rest of the legal problems in America."

       Draco sighed. "The Tonks family still has no idea, do they?"

       Harry shook his head. "Hermione already tried to file for an exception to the Statute of Secrecy, something about revealing magical information to on a need-to-know basis if there's a familial relationship, so Andy can finally tell Ted's siblings what happened. But a committee told Mione that they still have to debate the merits of sharing such information since Ted had already passed away. They see no reason for his muggle relatives to be informed at all since there's technically no more familial link between Andy and the Tonks except for Teddy. And the muggles aren't interested in gaining custody of him. It's a whole mess, but at least the decision will be out soon."

       Draco frowned. "I know from personal experience just how messy this bureaucracy can be. Right after the war, Mother and I had to go through all the 'necessary channels' just to fix up the Malfoy accounts and estates, in addition to all the hassle of securing Father's treatment while in Azkaban."

       Harry cleared his throat a little awkwardly, which made Draco turn to look at him with curiosity. "What?" the blonde couldn't help but asking.

       The brunet blushed and took a nervous sip. "Er… I was just wondering, since you mentioned your dad… how is it that you don't think he's behind all the threats?"

       "I'm certain, because it's simply not possible."

       "How could you be sure though?" Harry insisted.

       "Because he passed away two years ago."

 

***

 

       The air hung heavily when Harry absorbed Draco's calm words. "What?!" he blurted out. "But - but I'd have known when - if he…"

       "The last favor my mother and I ever did for my father was to ensure that his death would at least pass by in quiet honor, not in scandal."

       Draco's tone of voice was still a bit matter-of-fact, which made Harry wonder just how close the Malfoys had remained after the war. Of course, he had already known about Narcissa's willing separation from Lucius , as well as the subsequent rise to fame that everyone attributed to Draco and Astoria's efforts. It was only now that Harry realized he had no idea about Lucius Malfoy's fate beyond his admittance into Azkaban. To hear of his passing now was quite unexpected and shocking.

       "I'm very sorry to hear that," Harry finally offered in his most polite but sincere voice.

       To his surprise, the blond let out a snort.

       "We both know how you really felt about my father, Potter," he said with a wave of his hand. "No need for niceties when all the man wanted was to deliver you to his madman of a boss."

       "Well, when you put it that way- but I do feel -"

       "Don't lie about having any sympathy, Potter," Draco said somewhat impatiently.

       "I'm not!" Harry argued. He thought about his words this time, knowing how Draco tended to read too much into what anyone said. "Look," he started again. "I'm offering my condolences because you're my friend, and it sucks to lose a parent. That's all. I still hate him for everything he did willingly under Voldemort, but that doesn't stop me from

feeling sad that you lost your father."

       The expression on Draco's face mellowed somewhat, which got Harry feeling more relaxed.

       "If I'm to be honest, that actually makes me feel better," Draco admitted. He carefully ran his fingers through his hair. Harry could not help but stare at the action, though he still tried to hang onto the blond's words.

       "Did you at least get to spend time with him before he passed away?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "I don't believe Narcissa actually mentioned him to me when we'd talked in the past."

       "Of course she wouldn't, she hasn't referred to him at all in any way, not since they got separated officially. Mother still acknowledged that he was my father, but nothing more."

       "How's that been for you?" Harry asked, curious. "I mean, I never had either of my parents around, but you actually got to know yours before he passed away. Er, not sure exactly how well you two got along…"

       Draco seemed to mull over Harry's words. Harry hadn't really thought about it, but for some reason, he liked being able to listen to whatever Draco had to say.

       "Well," Draco began slowly, "our relationship had always been more formal and… strict. I've told you before about my own upbringing, and Father was…" his brows furrowed, "he played his role as best he could."

       Harry nodded, not wanting to break Draco's storytelling by speaking aloud.

       "By the time I went to Hogwarts, he would always boast about me being the perfect Slytherin, and the perfect heir. Those, of course, were two things my younger self had aimed for. It wasn't until… after fourth year, when the Dark Lord returned."

       "Not my favorite year, either," Harry offered with a shrug. He still got shivers whenever he thought about that night in the graveyard…

       Draco snorted. "Understatement of a lifetime," he agreed. "After that, Father became a servant once more, and I think he both loved and loathed the fact. He was a noble pureblood, but there he was acting like a footman to- to someone like Voldemort."

       He shuddered, which prompted Harry to refill his drink. The steam, which floated visibly between them as Draco sipped, seemed to help ease both of them.

       "In our sixth and seventh year, Father was bordering on madness, and Mother was beginning to fear for our safety. It was around that time when she would tell me that she felt her husband had gone. I didn't understand what she meant back then, of course, but now I do. He had become a shadow of himself, and he was bringing me down with him.

       "You remember those days," he said bitterly, looking straight into Harry's eyes. "I was torn between what I thought my Father wanted, and what I thought was right. I was so confused. It was when I found myself alone, without friends, and without my family with me, that I realized I didn't want to dig myself into a deeper grave like - like Father did. You asked how it was when he - when he died. Well, Mother received an owl from the Ministry that he had passed away in his sleep. He just never woke up. I expected to feel angry or furious, or hell, even relieved, you know? But… I looked at Mother and she looked at me and there was just this… this deep sadness for what happened to the great Lucius Malfoy. It's been almost two years, and still… still I ask myself if I still hold the same ideals that he once ingrained into me. I've worked so hard to come out of his shadow, but every day I fear that I might hold myself against the same strict standards he had for me. I know I'm a grown wizard, and a successful one at that. But sometimes… I don't know… I ask myself if what I've done will ever be good enough for him. Even when he's gone."

       Harry hadn't expected to hear so much after asking how Draco was after losing Lucius, but he didn't regret it. He boldly reached out to place his hand above Draco's on the table.

       "You did what you could, Draco," Harry whispered sincerely. "No matter what your Father may have wanted for you, to follow in his footsteps or become the perfect pureblood heir…You've done well in the last few years. Clearly, your mother is proud of everything you've accomplished for the family name. You're in no one's shadow."

       The blond smiled, which made something stir in the depths of Harry's stomach. He ignored it.

For several minutes, not another word was exchanged

       "Well," Draco finally said. "I don't usually talk about any of this, you know, but once again you've proven to be the exception."

       Harry chuckled. "Thank you for telling me. Though, I've got to admit, as much as I enjoy our occasional emotional exchanges, it's starting to feel a bit too maudlin."

       "You did ask!" Draco said defensively. "I didn't mean to -"

       "Relax!" Harry laughed. "I appreciate that you opened up like that, though."

       "Call it payback for that last time you made my ear bleed."

       Harry laughed even harder at the memory of him knocking on Draco's Floo in the middle of the night a couple of months ago, drunk and beyond reason, just to rant violently about a row he'd had with Ron and Hermione. Sure, they were his best friends, but Draco definitely got an earful of colorfully descriptive adjectives in the process. That he didn't repeat a single insult to either Ron or Hermione when they made up meant more to Harry than anything.

       "Fine, fine, so we're quits," he offered, raising an eyebrow at Draco.

       The man simply joined in his laughter. "For now," he agreed. "Not for long, I wager. We never seem to run out of problems to complain about, so it's only a matter of time."

       "Oh well, that's what our weird friendship is for," Harry said with a grin.

       It was true. Until now, no one was really aware of how close Harry and Draco had actually become. In the few short years since they had reconciled, not even Ron nor Hermione understood the extent of their interaction apart from the occasional call or pub crawl. In light of Draco's recent security measures, everyone expected them to stay more in touch via Floo, but it was still somewhat of a secret that they tended to cross over into each other's sitting rooms at odd hours, just to talk.

       "Er…"

       "What?" Draco asked.

       "D'you think - that this is too weird?" Harry blurted out.

       To his relief, Draco shook his head. "Perhaps for other people," he ventured. "But for a couple of wizards as mental and traumatized as you and me, well… I don't think I could find as good a companion as you when it comes to, you know, the war."

       Harry nodded in agreement. "I dunno, I reckon I realized just how much closer we've gotten, and I doubt the others are really aware, you know?"

       Draco shrugged. "I'd keep it that way, if possible. I mean, I wouldn't want Weasley or Granger to be privy to all the embarrassing things I've already admitted to you. Unless you want them to know about all that shit you ranted last time…"

       "No, you're absolutely right," Harry agreed. It was then that he noticed their empty cups. He checked the clock on top of the fridge.

       "Bloody hell!" he cried. "I didn't realize the time!" _How was it already eleven o'clock?!_

       Draco snickered as he stretched out his back and stood up. "I should go."

       "No, stay!"

       Harry had no idea where the words had come from but he couldn't take them back. And now that he thought about it, he didn't want to take them back.

       Draco eyed him furtively. "Pardon?"

       "Er… I just meant… you're here, and Scorp is here, and it's late and you told me earlier that no one at the Manor will mind… er, I mean… Teddy would love if -"

       "You're asking me to stay here?' Draco repeated, looking surprised. Harry hoped he hadn't ruined anything by blurting out overnight invitations without thinking about them.

       And what was the big deal anyway? It wasn't a crime to invite a friend to stay the night, was it? Ron always stayed after too many beers.

       "Sure," Harry confirmed, sounding more confident. "It's a safe place, my wards on you will be extra strong while you're here, and it's not like the place is crowded. You can take one of the rooms in the third floor."

       "Oh," was all Draco said. Harry imagined the gears in his head as the blond made calculations and predictions in his head until it was obvious the decision had been made. "Alright, I'd love to stay."

       Harry knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face, but he didn't care. For the first time in a while, he didn't feel so alone in Grimmauld Place. "Great," he said, somewhat anticlimactically.

       "In that case, how about a stronger drink then?" Draco suggested. "The boys are all asleep, it's not even midnight yet and neither of us have anywhere to be, so… What say you?"

       Harry snorted mid-sip, choking on his tea.

       "What's so funny?" Draco asked confusedly.

       "Nothing, it's just… you sounded like Aragorn when he said that line."

       "What? Who's that?"

       "Muggle film reference. Sorry." Harry shook his head, but then an idea came to him. "Tell you what. Let’s get those drinks, and maybe some crisps, and I'll show you what I was talking about."

       And they spent the rest of the night and part of the morning watching _The Lord of the Rings_ on Harry's modified entertainment system.

 

***

 

       The next morning found the two wizards passed out in front of the TV. Having had to cater to two crying babies halfway through _The Two Towers_ , as well as a nappy change in Harry's case, the rest of the marathon had to be postponed just so they could catch some sleep.

       It was a new experience for Draco, having to get up in the middle of the night to settle Scorpius down, but he found it somewhat enjoyable, as well as eye opening. While he and Astoria handled Scorpius themselves during the day, they slept uninterrupted thanks to the nurse elves stationed in the nursery. Thankfully, his son hadn't made a mess (yet) so Draco was able to get to sleep once Scorpius had settled down again.

       Neither was expecting much fanfare that morning, which was why both Harry and Draco were startled to consciousness by the shrill yell from someone running down the stairs.

       "Happy happy happy happy happy happy birthday, Harry! It's your birthday! It's your birthday! Let's get cake!!!"

       Draco scrunched his face when he lifted his head from the couch. He saw Harry trying to sit up but failing.

       "Whaaa?" the brunet asked dazedly to no one in particular.

       "What's he shouting about, Potter?" Draco complained irritably.

       This time, he felt the full weight of the young boy on his stomach, and he let out an undignified 'oomph'.

       "It's Harry's birthday! We get cake! We get cake!"

       "Damn it, I forgot!" Draco heard Harry mutter to himself.

       "He's serious?!"

       Teddy, now fully awake and doubly excited, moved higher to hug Draco. "Draco, you're still here! You can celebrate with us! Hooray!" And with that he jumped off and ran back upstairs. Draco hoped to Merlin he didn't wake the babies just yet.

       "So, care to elaborate?" he asked Harry, who hid behind a throw pillow and groaned.

       "Sorry, sorry, I completely forgot all about it. Don't even know how he remembered," Harry said grumpily from behind the pillow.

        Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is it just me, or do you actually sound terribly glum?"

        "'M not _glum_ , just…" Draco watched curiously as Harry tried to think of an explanation, then gave up and just rubbed at his face sleepily before trying again. "I don't really celebrate my birthdays, that's all. The others do, but if I'm by myself I usually forget."

        How could anyone even forget their birthday? Draco couldn't help but wonder at Harry's odd behavior.

        Something must have shown in his expression, because Harry immediately looked flustered. "You probably had really grand birthday parties or whatever when you were younger, so you wouldn't get it. But I never really got to celebrate mine, not until I got to Hogwarts, so it isn't really a 'thing' for me, alright? Not a big deal or anything. I seriously just forget about it now."

        "So no one else is coming over to celebrate?" Draco ventured to ask.

        Harry shook his head. "I don’t really fancy any big parties, actually. I'm fucking relieved that Ron and Hermione and Ginny and everyone are away right now, which means I can spend the day how I want to, for a change," he said with a smile.

        This time, Draco felt ashamed. "I'm here, though," he said, trying not to sound too disappointed in case Harry decided to kick him out or something. "Don't mean to intrude or anything…"

        "Well, you're at least good company," the brunet said, still smiling, "so maybe we can just indulge Teddy with that cake he wants, and while away the rest of the day and see what we get up to. What do you think?"

        The mere idea put a ray of light in Draco's mood. The thought of spending a relaxing day with Harry and the kids was welcome after all the hassle he and his family were going through with the threats.

        "I'd love that," he finally answered, glad when Harry's expression brightened even more. "I do have an idea for later, actually."

        Harry raised an eyebrow. "Sure, anything in particular you wanted to do or try out?"

        Draco felt sheepish, but said it anyway. "Since we didn't finish last night… can we continue with the rest of those films?"

        With a barking laugh, Harry agreed enthusiastically. "Of course! This might actually be one of my better birthdays, you know. Just the kids, no nosy strangers and stuffy people to impress. No noisy fanfare. Just cake. Oh, and Lord of the Rings. Perfect."

        Draco couldn't help but laugh. He really did want to watch the rest, and now that Harry mentioned it, he did understand the need to lay back and just forgo the unnecessary fanfare. More often nowadays, he and Astoria tended to disagree about having those extra lavish birthday soirees. If he were being honest, that kind of stuff could be a little exhausting unless you kept it within the immediate family and friends (which Astoria did not, of course.) Silently, he agreed with Harry - it was his birthday, so he could spend it however he wanted, no matter how simple.

        "Where's that cake, then?" Draco remembered, simultaneously stretching out the kinks his back had received from falling asleep on the couch. "Are we getting it somewhere, or do you conveniently have a secret stash of sweets somewhere?"

        "Ah, that's half the fun, Draco," Harry hinted mischievously. "Because we'll be making the cake from scratch."

        And with that, Draco found himself being dragged off the couch and pushed upstairs to wash up before being manhandled into the kitchen for some unexpected muggle food preparation.

 

***

 

        Baking a cake with a non-domestic Potions Master and a hyperactive eight year old Metamorphmagus was not how Harry had imagined at all. For one thing, the birthday cake itself, an ambitious and fancy-looking Black Forest confection, actually looked _and_ tasted pretty good.

        For another thing, Harry couldn't quite get his head around the fact that he had actually enjoyed the entire process.

        After lunch and the extra special dessert (during which Teddy had insisted on using candles for Harry to blow out and make a wish), Kreacher helpfully offered to take care of the mess (both in the kitchen and the dining room) while Harry and Draco went to checkup on their sons.

        The afternoon found Teddy taking a nap and the two wizards settled in front of the television, now watching _Return of the King_ as Harry had promised. James was happily playing with a magical set of blocks in front of them, while an enlarged play pen held the tottering pair of Albus and Scorpius.

        Harry was thoroughly enjoying himself. Ron almost always fell asleep through the first twenty minutes, while Hermione just didn't find the movies as interesting, preferring factual or intellectual types instead.

        Harry liked that he could cause Draco to snort whenever he quoted his favorite lines along with the characters on the screen. He didn't care though, and he mostly kept on doing it because it seemed to amuse the blond so much.

         _If only life could be as simple as lounging about and having movie marathons_ , he silently mused. It added perspective to the situation of securely housing a co-worker and his child while they were under threat of bodily damage from an unknown criminal.

        There was a slight movement from out of the corner of his eye, which Harry instinctively knew to be Draco waving his wand. "What was that for?" he demanded suspiciously.

        "Oh. Just a Charm to fix up the temperature in here. I like to keep Scorpius moderately comfortable." He turned his head to look at Harry with a trademark eyebrow raise. "That's not a crime, is it?"

        "No, no, you just startled me, is all." Harry laughed to himself when he thought about all those arguments he used to have with Ginny over the proper temperature. "I do have a similar Charm attached to that snow globe over there, actually." He pointed to the knick-knack on the coffee table. "Must have forgotten to reset it last night. But it's nice to see that you're on the same page."

        "What, with the temperature?" Draco scoffed. "Just a minor rise causes my son to feel discomfort, so I've dealt with it proactively since I found out. It's been difficult since Astoria prefers warmer climes, so we have Scorpius' rooms on a different setting from the rest of the Manor."

        Harry chuckled. "Learned all my lessons from experience as well. I eventually figured out that all those times that I couldn't get James to settle were just caused by his discomfort. To think that I kept flipping him over and peeking at his nappies and trying to feed him. Wouldn't stop wailing like a banshee."

        He moved over to where James was and pulled him into his arms, bringing him back with him to the sofa. "This tyke here, almost drove me and his mum up the wall one time because he wanted to have a dragon. It was the stupidest tantrum ever."

        "One time, our head elf popped in front of me in a panic because they couldn't settle Scorpius down to sleep. It turns out one of them had completely forgotten to give him a pre-prepared bottle that he'd gotten used to sleeping with. Started bawling when he couldn't find it and the elves had no idea at all until I retrieved it myself."

        "At least you have one to practice with," Harry joked. "I've already got two, and twice the pressure to be the perfect dad. Which I highly doubt, to be honest. Not for lack of trying, though."

        "Look at us," Draco suddenly said. "Chosen One and Death Eater Spawn, baking cakes and exchanging baby stories." He used a finger to poke James repeatedly, causing the boy to giggle and squeal out 'Day-co staaaaahp'.

        Harry chuckled. "Yeah, didn't think we'd ever have it in us to be all… domestic and shit. Pardon the French."

        "I speak French, that was not French. In front of children, too."

        "Oh shut up. You know what I meant. Anyway, it feels kinda… _right_ , if you ask me," Harry mused before he could stop himself from speaking. He immediately turned into a deep shade of red. He didn't want to sound all sappy in front of Malfoy.

        To his surprise, Draco shrugged. "That makes two of us."

        Harry looked once more at Draco. "You know, you're not such a bad party guest after all."

        Draco grinned. "Happy birthday, Potter."

 

***

 

        Draco didn't think he'd have to stay beyond dinner this time, but when Harry suggested he remain for another night under the wards of Grimmauld Place, how could he say no?

        "Anyway," Harry had explained, "Teddy will be meeting the Tonkses with Andy, so he'll be Flooing out after dinner. So at least it'll be quieter for you."

        Draco wanted to point out that he hadn't had any noise-related troubles at all since he'd stayed over, but he didn't think it was worth mentioning. Neither did he mull over the fact that he was actually quite enjoying the extended visit. It was a far cry from the occasional drunken Floo cross overs, not to mention the hurried exits before breakfast-

         _Wow, that sounded pretty… er…_

        Draco kept his mind clear after that.

        Instead, he'd simply said "I'd love to stay." Perhaps a little too quickly. But he did mean every word.

        And he still meant it when he finally left after the weekend, having spent two and a half days in the company of the Chosen One.

 

***

 

        Harry tried to ignore them.

        Those weird feelings he got whenever he saw Draco cuddling Scorpius. Or playing poke-the-baby with Jamie.

        He wanted to deny that he had ever been caught staring at Draco when the latter wasn't looking. He thought Draco stared back at him some of the time, too, but he didn't try reason why it made him flush with embarrassment and guilt when that happened.

        Perhaps the extended exposure to Draco Malfoy was just too drastic a change to their occasionally spotty Floo exchanges. But he wasn't complaining.

        He was being honest with Draco anyway. He really did like the companionship the blond provided. It was a nice balance of carefree and snooty, of sincerity and smugness.

        Harry rarely shared his presence with other people apart from Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the rest of the extended family. It was his choice. But sometimes when he was on the end of his string, he found that he couldn't escape to be on his own.

        The Weasleys were his family, even after his technical separation from Ginny. But he never could find a sense of solitude because he was almost always in the midst of some sort of family gathering.

        He missed the rooftop of his flat, but he didn't think he had the courage to go back there just yet.

        It was quiet again, the boys sleeping and no visitor to annoy him.

        In any case, spending the weekend with Draco was enough of a booster to his mood. Perhaps he just needed that jolt in his life, to spend a few days not with his mates or his ex-fiancée or other Aurors. Perhaps he just needed someone detached from his daily life, who was sincere and forward and understanding and just as broken and sympathetic and blunt…

        Well, he'd found all of that in Draco, and found that it was a package that he could come to appreciate in person, not just through the Floo.

 

***

 

        After the welcome lull over the weekend, Harry thought it was both invigorating and vexing to be around everyone else again. Granted, he had a lot of years to get used to the non-committal chatter expected from Ron and Hermione; the stifling yet warm coddling from Molly and Arthur; and the entertaining talks with Ginny whenever she had something to rant about.

        Ron had immediately reverted to his Auror mode upon returning, and fell back into stride with the Malfoy case. Harry still only spent alternating half days at the Ministry, working from home on the off days. Draco continued his charade of normal life, albeit under Harry's personal bindings.

        They were all still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for that moment when the suspected wizard would become so annoyed or so overconfident that he would give himself away. The Auror watch was still tailing William Howe, but it was so far inconclusive.

        It was a bad habit of Harry's to mentally prepare himself if he was having a good run of anything, whether in his personal life or when working a case. Perhaps he had been conditioned (badly) by his experiences, but he had long since believed that whenever he had a run of successes for any extended amount of time, his luck usually turned against him at the last second. Something always went wrong. Which meant he was almost always on edge, ensuring that he would be ready when it came.

        He figured, after those last few days just hanging out with Draco with no problems whatsoever, ' _it_ ' was bound to happen sooner or later.

        This mindset explained why the Auror seemed to greet Draco's sudden Floo call to his office with a grim set to his expression.

        "Harry," the blond said nervously, the green flames adding pallor to his already pale complexion. "Mother just… she…"

        "What is it, Dray?" Harry asked concernedly. He rarely saw his friend at a loss for words. Even under pressure, Draco could talk his way out of anything. His sudden reticence just made Harry all the more sure that nothing good would come out of this conversation.

        "Mother f-found an old Black ward but it won't work! We've - we've tried the ritual twice now but it just won't attach to Scorpius' magic! I don't know what to do, Harry! What if he's been cursed?!"

        Ron, having heard everything from his desk, had leapt closer to the fire. "Hey, Malfoy, just relax, alright? Now, let's go through this logically. Are you sure the warding ritual was a viable one? I mean, are you sure it had historical precedence?"

        Draco visibly took in a deep breath, which seemed to calm him. "Viable, yes. Mother did her research thoroughly, and she's been instructed in the Black family history since her childhood days. This particular one was the best option to provide complete protection against ill intent. It's not archaic or obsolete, just very limited to the Black line. The steps for the ritual are laid out very precisely to avoid any margin of error. The only reason it hasn't worked is if Scorpius' magic is blocked somehow. I can't - I have to protect him. The Fidelius isn't enough!"

        Harry almost moved towards Draco to grab his hand, but caught himself early enough. He cleared his throat consciously. "Dray, I'm sure there's a reason behind this. The last thing I want is for you to start losing your head and panicking. We're going to catch this guy before he even gets his paws on you, alright?"

        He knew this was probably the first of a growing list of bad news they were going to get in the next few days. Knowing his luck, it probably wasn't the worst, either.

        "How's the trail on Howe?" Draco inquired. "Are you getting closer to apprehending him?"

        "Don't you worry about that now, mate," Ron said soothingly. "We're making progress on his investigation. We'll update you as soon as we can about that. For now, just make sure you keep your family inside Malfoy Manor, alright?"

        When Draco had agreed half-heartedly, said goodbye and cut the call, Harry turned immediately to Ron. "So, are we really making any progress on Howe?"

        "Not really," replied Ron, looking defeated. "But I had to tell him something. Man's going mental and we're not getting much headway into this bloody case. Nothing makes sense!"

        "What've we got so far? Remind me."

        Ron huffed as he took a bunch of crumpled parchment from his desk. "We've tailed him, used a remote searching charm in his flat for suspicious items, checked in with friends and acquaintances… There's no discernible pattern. There's no evidence against him. It's odd."

        "Hmmm…" Harry could feel his brows scrunching together beyond the limits of anatomy, he was just so frustrated. Hearing the news about Scorpius really made him more determined.

        At that moment, a disgruntled Ministry intern knocked on their open office door and indicated the file box he was holding.

        "Yes?" Ron asked, scowling. He hated being interrupted by the 'ickle interns'.

        "Sorry, Auror Weasley, Auror Potter. These just got archived. Higher ups say they prefer you keep the originals."

        "And those are…?" Harry asked, confused. Had he missed a memo in his absence?

        Ron read his mind. "Mate, those are the mind maps. The entire intellectual framework of the Auror Corps in that single box."

        "Oh, yeah, I forgot," Harry gestured to the intern. "Thanks. You can probably just put them over on the conference table, we'll take care of the rest."

        When the intern left, Harry couldn't help his curiosity.

        "I'm tempted to file these away now just so I can pretend that we've moved forward on something." As he began sifting through the sheets of simplified mind maps that he had become so proficient at reading, Ron came up beside him, sharing his interest.

        "Not a bad idea, that. Hmm, look at Hodges' map. Interesting. Was expecting a completely different layout…"

        While Ron kept muttering his commentary to himself, Harry's eyes were drawn to the map sheet labelled 'Draco L. Malfoy'. Curious, he pulled it out and laid it on top of everything else.

        Ron looked at his discovery. "Wow. Malfoy. Not a bad mind. But… I dunno, not what I expected."

        "Ron…"

        Harry's tone of voice took on an abrupt change, which caught Ron's attention. "What?"

        "Look at it!" Harry ordered, staring intently at the mind map in front of them. "Can you see it?"

        It took a while, but when Ron followed the web of lines that linked and crossed and overlaid each other, he caught Harry's train of thought with a jolt of horror. "No!" he protested weakly.

        Harry's breath seemed to stop flowing. He was too shocked by what they had just uncovered by chance. It was something, a bigger picture, that only the most trained could process at a glance. Of course Harry and Ron were right at the top of that list - they had invented the process after all. That made it feel even worse.

        There, so blatant and obvious, displayed obscenely in front of them, was a mind map that was so clearly influenced by a certain substance called Persephone's Poison.

        Harry gulped. "Oh Merlin… _Draco_ …"

 

 


	29. At a Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'd like to apologize for making you all wait so long for an update! It was pretty hard writing out the last two and a half chapters that I had to break them up into smaller batches for a better story flow. After that, My schedule became a bit too busy so it completely slipped my mind. Then after that, my detachable (slightly expensive) keyboard decided to slowly kill itself. But anyway, I hope I haven't lost too many readers out there. Much love, X
> 
> PS: I uploaded this via mobile, so sorry for any weird formatting. I'll fix it the next time I'm online on my laptop. X  
> PPS: Edited formatting as promised :)

**(Present, 2007)**

        Draco had never felt more helpless than he did now. All sense of confidence had fled his being, now that it became apparent that his son might be in terrible danger. He hadn't heard back yet from either Weasley or Harry since he informed them of Scorpius' possible curse. To relieve his nerves in the meantime, he, Narcissa and Astoria had combed through as much of the Malfoy library as they could, searching every sheaf and scroll for more information about the protection ward that had failed.

        "Is there no alternative ward, Narcissa?" Astoria asked, siphoning off the dust from the book she was reading using her wand. "Perhaps this one is too much trouble, we might be wasting precious time when there might be another, better one."

        The blond matriarch shook her head, though her eyes remained focused on the tome in her hands. "There is none that is as all-encompassing in physical and magical protection as this one. The only known ward that is superior to this is the _Solum Sanctuarii,_ and that is obviously beyond our magical capacity and standing. Draco is lucky that Potter had even included him under his magical bindings. Scorpius could be well protected by this, but we must find why it won't latch onto his magical core."

        "Perhaps there is an essential step that we have missed?" Astoria suggested. "A missing incantation, or ingredient? This ritual is centuries old, we can't even make sure if the sources we've used have recorded it properly. Maybe something significant was omitted somehow…"

        Draco sighed, reminding himself not to sound too defeated so early in the game. "No, Mother is right. This kind of ward is powerful because it relies on familial connections. There is no kind of protective magic as potent."

        Of course, he knew the possible repercussions of a successful blood ward because Harry had once told him about the one Dumbledore had invoked so many years ago. If Voldemort couldn't harm Harry back then because of the family blood ward, then Scorpius would be shielded from their as yet unknown enemy.

        "Using familial blood to call on a ward invokes very powerful magic. If it could protect Harry Potter from the Dark Lord, then it could very well be our only means to keep Scorpius safe no matter what happens."

        "But we've already gone through all the material that Narcissa brought out from both the Malfoy and Black collections, and still nothing new!" Astoria cried, looking forlorn. "It will take us forever and result in close to nothing…"

        It was then that Draco had an idea, and a spark of hope. "Mother," he said slowly, "if you are amenable, I do know someone who can help us with this."

        "As long as they can be trusted with our lives," his mother answered coolly.

        Draco let out a breath of relief. "Let me call her."

 

***

 

        "You need _what_?" Hermione asked uncertainly.

        "We need your help with research into the old magical ward, find the reasons why it might have failed for Scorpius. Three of us have already scoured the library, and we've come up with nothing new to add to what Mother has already found before attempting it. You are the only one I know who can help this time…"

        "Draco, if three of you can't find anything new -"

        "None of us are you, Hermione."

        She raised her eyebrow. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

        "You're the brightest witch of the age, and no one will ever, ever doubt that. I'll put my entire fortune on you becoming Minister if ever you pursue that."

        Draco saw Hermione pursing her lips and knew that she was already thinking of the possible avenues of research she would take. Truly brilliant, that girl.

        "We know it was successfully invoked by Dumbledore for Harry when he was brought to his Muggle family, but anything more than that is hearsay," he explained as calmly as he could. "The Black ward that Mother found is very similar in nature, calling for a blood kin's sacrifice -"

        "A _sacrifice_?!"

        "Only symbolically," Draco said exasperatedly. "The ritual called for blood, so Mother used hers. We followed the steps but the magic didn't attach to Scorpius. We tried again, this time with my blood, but… it still failed."

        "And Astoria has no Black blood, which means she can't give her own as the sacrifice."

        Draco nodded. He appreciated that he at least didn't have to spell every single thing out for Hermione to understand.

        "And how would I be of any help, considering this is a matter of ancient pure blood magic, and not something a Muggleborn like me is likely to be privy to?"

        "Because…" he started slowly, somewhat begrudgingly. But he knew he had to be honest. "Because none of that matters when you're the cleverest witch currently in existence. And I trust you to be able to figure it out where none of us have."

        He expected some sort of smug reply or a sarcastic jibe, but there was none of that. Instead-

        "Fine," Hermione said firmly, which made Draco release the breath he was holding. "I can come through. But let me call Harry and Ron first-they'll want to know where I'm going to be today, you see…"

        It took a lot of effort for Draco to hold his tongue when her meaning became clear. _Of course_ , he thought bitterly to himself. Hermione's presence in the Manor, coupled with an extended exposure to Narcissa and Astoria, might have been too much for him to ask. One couldn't simply sweep everything under the rug - especially not under the rug that Hermione had possibly been tortured on.

        "You're sure it's alright?" Draco managed to ask weakly. "It's just, after everything that's happened…"

        Hermione gave him a small smile - a bit tense but reassuring all the same. "It's just a matter of logistics at this point. I'd rather they know where to find me rather than worry about me missing from my home when I'm expected to be there."

        "What about Hugo and Rose?"

        "At the Burrow this weekend. Ron and I had to go to that overseas trip, so we had them settled for the rest of the week with their grandparents. Anyway, I can be there in a couple of hours, if that's okay."

        "It's more than okay!" Draco couldn't help but smile back in relief. "Thank you so much, Hermione. This means a lot."

        "Oh, don't you worry, Draco. You can owe me sometime later, when all this is taken care of." Her smile turned into more of a smirk this time. Draco had never felt prouder.

 

***

 

        "You're telling me Malfoy might be under the influence of the potion?" Ron asked in disbelief. "After all this time, he might be one of those victims we've been trying to help! What the fuck, mate! What are we supposed to do? Do you think he's already had enough to overdose?!"

        "Shut up, Ron, I'm trying to think here."

        Harry got up from his seat and started pacing again. He was pretty sure he'd worn down a sizeable chunk of his office carpet, but he couldn't really give a damn right now because his best mate was in trouble. This wasn't just about his duty. This shit just became _personal_.

        "Should I call in-"

        "No," Harry interrupted Ron. "I don't want anyone else in on this just yet." He didn't say it out loud, but he truly felt like he owed Draco at least a modicum of privacy. This was the sort of news that would propel the Prophet into another maelstrom of irresponsible journalism and mob mentality. Forget the fact that Draco might be the poisoned victim in danger of actually dying, but people were probably going to jump on the sensational aspects of the case - illegal potions, shady history, anything to get more readers.

        No, Harry would keep this quiet until they got down to the bottom of it all.

        "How would he even be exposed to it? The mind map isn't enough to explain when he was ever dosed, or if it was just once or long term…" Harry finally turned to face Ron, who was slumped in his own chair looking dejected. Never before had they had a case so near to themselves.

        "I've still got a copy of the files we haven't sent down to Archives," the redhead suggested. "That's really all we can work on. I mean, what were the _chances_ …?"

        Harry nodded, expression somber. "We have to be careful and keep it professional. I don't want to be taken out of this case just when it's hit so close to home."

        The two Aurors split the parchment between them and began to rifle through the reports they had already begun to forget.        

        Ron began reading out from the report in his hand. This case seemed so long ago. "Here… Hal Pince just _mistook_ the dosage - but the victims were supposed to be put under the influence so they would fall for someone else." He flipped through several more sheets. "Yeah, that's right. The murder victims were only meant to be taken out of the picture, so the Eilerts' clients could pursue their actual targets - the people they planned to seduce and marry."

        Harry could feel just a little bit of pressure in his chest melt away at Ron's words. "So Draco isn't in immediate danger of OD-ing, right? That's a good thing?"

        "That's all you picked up from everything I just read out?" Ron joked, before looking back to the records in his hands. "Anyway, we can't be sure if he was meant to be the victim-to-marry, or the victim-to-get-rid-of. Straight out, it could have been Astoria who wanted him, and hired the Eilerts to dose him. And that's just a terrible theory to think about because… well, they're happy."

        Harry closed his eyes and shook his head in a valiant effort to clear it. "Draco and Astoria didn't have a rush wedding," he said thoughtfully. "A case of forced or blackmailed marriage is usually indicated by a lack of any decent prep time - the perpetrator is likely to arrange a quick bonding so their victim can't get away. Magical bindings are pretty much Unbreakable."

        "Yeah, that's right, the Malfoys had a really, _really_ long engagement. Especially for a pureblood union. Almost as long as yours and Ginny's."

        "So who else, then?" the brunet demanded to his desk, fist slamming hard on it in frustration.

        "Let's not forget the other angles here," Ron said in a placating tone that helped little to assuage Harry's darkening mood. "Could be that someone wanted Draco for themselves, which would mean Astoria was the victim-to-get-rid-of and must have been dosed as well. Or it's also possible that someone wanted _Astoria,_ but she and Draco ended up together. Either way, they would both have been given the poison."

        "It would have been someone close enough in proximity to poison both of them. It's unbelievable though that they would go through all this trouble to get into the Malfoy family by marriage. Considering their status right after the war. Who would've wanted in on that?"

        "The motive doesn't have to be just money. It could have been family name, or heritage, or magical lineage. It could be some obsession. A crush gone wrong. I mean, before we apprehended the Eilerts, can you imagine how many Purebloods must have gotten their paws on this potion just to be able to get someone to marry them? Wizarding history is chock full of really sketchy weddings. Bet you the Eilerts have been cashing in on the demand for their special brand of potion."

        Something suddenly dawned on Harry. "Has Draco's behavior changed at all in the last year?"

        To his relief, Ron seemed to pick up on his line of thought. "Since we caught the Eilerts and confiscated all the new batches of Persephone's Poison? Nothing too major, I reckon. He's a bit nicer, of course," he added with a smirk. "Still smug, but nice. Have you noticed anything yourself?"

        Harry thought back to the past year of spending time with Draco, of sharing silent jokes and meaningful glances, of exchanging secrets and staying over at each other's places. The blonde's unerring understanding of what Harry thought and felt, and the closeness and comfort he can so easily provide without trying too hard. The fleeting looks and the sense of longing for Draco's presence…

        He turned away from Ron in an effort to hide the flush he could feel creeping up his face.

        "No, same old Slytherin git," Harry said with a shaky laugh. "So that means he didn't get dosed too recently, right? I mean, theoretically, if whoever had given him the potion had lost their supply since we got the Eilert brothers, it would've caused a severe behavioral change. Total withdrawal."

        "Let's hope so, Harry. But our problem now is figuring out how this is relevant to our current case or not."

        "Of _course_ it's relevant," Harry snapped, glaring at Ron.

        The redhead, bless him, merely rolled his eyes at Harry's outburst. "I meant, if you think the person who poisoned Malfoy is the same one giving the threats?"

        "Then…" Harry mentally went through everything he and Ron had just brought up. "If they're one and the same, then we would be right in assuming that the person wants Astoria, and therefore wants to get rid of Draco."

        "So it could still be William Howe. As a spurned ex-suitor, it all makes sense."

        Harry gave an angry huff. "Bring up the rest of the team. Be discreet. I want this case solved by the end of the week, or so help me, I will hunt down Howe myself if he harms the Malfoys in any way."

        Ron let out a nervous laugh. "Sometimes you scare me, mate."

        But the humor was lost on Harry, because all he could think about was Draco's fear stricken face in his Floo.

        "Oh, Harry?"

        He turned to face Ron, who was just about to leave the room to call the others. "Hmm?"

        "Do we tell Malfoy, or…?"

        "No."

        "Er, alright. I'll be back with the others. Set up the conference room."

        Once his best friend had gone, Harry dropped his head into his hands. So many things were happening now, but all he could think of was how Draco looked, half-asleep on his couch in the middle of _The Two Towers_. Somehow, the fact that he was privy to the blonde prat's private life - the simple joys they accidentally shared - made him all the more determined to get to the bottom of this whole issue. Knowing that Draco's very mind had been tampered with was the last straw. He knew the man well enough to know that he would not react calmly if he found out. They would tell him eventually, but not yet.

         _No_ , Harry thought stubbornly. _I won't let anyone lay a finger on you or your family. I swear it._

 

***

 

        Draco couldn't help it - the panic in his voice was evident and _very_ un-Malfoy, but he couldn't care less.

        "Well? What do you think?" he asked.

        Hermione scrunched her brows and bit her lip, an expression that Draco knew from Harry meant she was going through information in her head at the speed of light.

        From the other side of the room, Narcissa lay down a sleeping Scorpius. Her own brow was marked with worry, and it was with immense self-control, Draco knew, that his mother could keep her face as calm as it seemed. Astoria sat close to their son, hands clutching subconsciously on her silk robes.

        At last, the frizzy brunette blew out a breath and wrote something down on her notes. "Just two more tests," she said softly. She turned nervous eyes at Narcissa, and Draco understood immediately that she was hoping the older woman wouldn't mind.

        "What else must be done?" Narcissa asked impassively. "The three of us have provided our blood and a reading of our magical aura. You have also taken the same from Scorpius," she said, gesturing towards her sleeping grandson.

        "You misunderstand me," Hermione answered. "I just need to take the same samples from your sister, Andromeda, and her grandson."

        "Why is this necessary?" Draco couldn't help but ask. "Isn't our blood what's more important here?"

        "Since all of your research has been completely from the magical side of things, I decided to take the Muggle route. I hoped you would all keep your minds open, because I think we might be able to solve the problem this way."

        "And how do you think it will provide a better solution if even the magical means are failing?" Astoria asked concernedly. "What difference does it make?"

        "I can't be sure yet," Hermione admitted. "There are magical ways of determining blood relations and magical auras, of course, but these can be fooled by external factors such as volatile magical currents, or the proximity to magical substances and artifacts. There are even rituals to change or modify lineage, such as for magical adoption. In muggle science, however, there is such a thing we call DNA, which are the building blocks of every living organism."

        "Can you kindly elaborate for us non-Muggles?" Draco prompted, both scandalized and intrigued. As a Potions Master, he was very well versed in the art and science of magical potions. He had heard and dabbled a bit in Muggle Chemistry in France, but it was mostly for inorganic or inert substances - he knew very little of what Hermione meant.

        "Draco, you've probably studied about the elements and their role in chemistry," Hermione began. He nodded. "DNA is similar, but more of a biological science. Specifically what we call Genetics. In a nutshell, imagine that every living thing is made up of tiny little cells. In each cell, there is an embedded code that is unique to every living being, and it is this set of genes that dictates what or who it is and how it grows and develops. They act as a blueprint, and contains highly unique information about the individual it pertains to. It is even possible to trace biological lineages for several generations. It is such for muggle humans, and I'm guessing it's the same with witches and wizards, too."

        "I still cannot grasp why this is any different from the magical means we use," Narcissa said, voice like the calm before a storm.

        Hermione took another deep breath, which Draco guessed meant she was having a hard time explaining this in simple terms.

        "DNA, unlike magical signatures or auras, cannot be easily tampered with. Scorpius' DNA is a mix of Draco's and Astoria's. Draco's is a mix of yours, Narcissa, and Lucius'. There is a certain analogy in familial relationships which is why I also want to examine Teddy Lupin's DNA, which is related to Andromeda's in much the same degree as Scorpius is to you."

        Draco was beginning to understand what she meant, though the entire concept of DNA and - what did she call it? - Genetics. "So what you're saying is, you hope to find a pattern in the Black family bloodline?"

        'Yes," the witch nodded enthusiastically. "There should be parallels between the Malfoy and the Tonks lines, and it is there that maybe we can see what might be wrong, or missing."

        Draco turned to his mother. He knew that she, with limited exposure to the muggle world, would be doubting the entire process. But at this point, he was pretty much desperate for any solution, and all it would take was a reading of their aura and their family bloodline. Perhaps, he would pursue this interesting branch of muggle studies, but for now, his only concern was how it could help Scorpius.

        He moved closer to his sleeping son, brushing a stray hair from the boy's cheek.

        "A friend of mine can have the samples analyzed as soon as possible," Hermione continued. "She's a muggle, of course, but this is her area of expertise, and there will be little room for error."

        "I don't care if she's a muggle," Draco said softly, turning to face his friend. "But if this helps to save my son, then I will take back everything I've ever said against muggles."

        Astoria came closer to hold his hand. "Are you certain this will work?" she nervously asked.

        Hermione, who obviously trusted in this system, nodded reassuringly at all of them.

        Draco took a deep breath. "I'll contact Andy myself. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. We are all willing to do anything just to find out what might be blocking Scorpius' magic."

        He felt Scorpius stir, the little body moving just that much to cuddle towards him.

        "The sooner, the better."

        

***

 

        "It scares me."

        The admission, concise as it was, meant so much more to Harry, who knew that Draco would not have uttered such a statement of weakness if it weren't just the two of them.

        "I'm sure Hermione will figure it out," Harry said soothingly, patting the blonde softly on the arm. Being in the same couch made it a lot easier for them to comfort each other more efficiently.

        Or at least Draco had said so earlier when their conversation turned once again to their biggest problem.

        "It's very different, having to worry for someone because they can't do it for themselves." Draco was still avoiding having to look at Harry, opting instead to gaze into the fire. Harry immediately understood it to mean that his friend was feeling vulnerable. He didn't press the issue.

        "It's one of the more difficult things about loving someone," Harry said nonchalantly. His thoughts strayed to Albus Dumbledore and his mutterings about the greatest power.

        Draco sniffled, which Harry thought was kind of adorable. "It makes me look weak," he grumbled. "I mean, look at me, all curled up on the Savior's couch, desperately waiting for an update."

        "Don't be stupid," Harry scolded, "it's not weakness. And anyway, I've always agreed with Dumbledore that it's a kind of strength you have inside you."

        When Draco threw a doubtful look at him, he shrugged. "Sure, I used to gag at the idea when he'd mention it. I was really young, what do you expect? But after…" he gulped. "After I dueled with Voldemort… I dunno, I realized that I had to admit to myself… I was scared - I was afraid. I had to fucking die, if you'll recall. That walk into the Forbidden Forest was one of my most fucked up moments in life, and that's saying something."

        Draco continued to stare at him, wide eyed at Harry's own admission as he went on.

        "I was alone, and I was about to die, but you know what? I reminded myself that I was doing it for the people I loved. I was scared, but that made me realize that the love I felt for my friends and my family, and the love they felt for me, that was a kind of strength that shone from inside. You - you have to be strong to be able to carry someone else in your heart."

        There was a protracted silence, during which all Harry could hear was the rain shattering upon the windows.

        "That was hands down the cheesiest description of love." Draco closed his eyes. "But… you sold it well."

        A smile lit Harry's face against his will. "It's true," he said, turning more to face Draco. "When you have that capacity to love, and you use it to the fullest by carrying as many as possible, that's when you feel even stronger. And the fact that you're scared for your family doesn't discount that, but it… it shows that you have that empathy. Merlin, I'm rambling now."

        Draco nudged him. "It wasn't that bad. You actually made me feel better."

        For some reason, Harry felt warmer. He adjusted his position and felt the need to change the subject. "So anyway, er… with all the drama, have you been able to keep in contact with your friends?" he asked.

        "Oh." Harry noted there was a sort of disappointment coloring Draco's voice, but he didn't have any idea why he would have imagined that. Draco cleared his throat. "Well… I promised Blaise I'd talk to him once this was all over. He tends to travel a lot for work anyway, so it isn't a big change from our habits. I've been in contact with Pansy once or twice since the threat began, but nothing out of the ordinary there. Less visits, but then that's somewhat of a good thing to be honest. She's patient. She's a Slytherin. She understands."

        Harry laughed as he imagined the woman who had willingly married Oliver Wood. That _would_ require an unnatural amount of patience. "What does she think of this entire thing anyway?"

        Draco frowned. "She doesn't really have as much information as she wants. As a rule, I don't tell my friends too much, unless absolutely necessary."

        "But she has an idea the amount of deep shit you currently are?"

        "Yes, yes," Draco replied with an exaggerated long-suffering sigh. "She knows my life is in peril, and understands what's at stake."

        "You're so melodramatic sometimes," Harry teased.

        Draco slapped him on the arm this time. "I thought you were supposed to treat your house guest with the utmost respect and deference."

        "Fuck that, you're just kipping on my couch until you get sick of it and Floo back to your own fluffy, pretentious bed."

        Draco chuckled. "You know me so well," he admitted somewhat sheepishly. "Thanks, though."

        Harry narrowed his eyes, determined to really look at the blond seated across the other end of his couch. He was unusually pale, unkempt and slouched into the cushions. It was so unlike Draco, and yet still so very Draco, that Harry couldn't help but lift a corner of his mouth into a secret half smile for himself.

        "You're welcome," he said. He was startled when he felt Draco grasp his hand gently. There was something behind the shiny grey eyes, but he couldn't tell what.

        "I mean it, Harry," the man said, squeezing his hand in a comforting manner. "Thank you for everything."

        A lump formed in Harry's throat, around the same time that an odd warm something squirmed in his stomach. He squeezed back.

        "Anything for you."

        

***

 

 

        As promised, Hermione's friend had come through and promptly sent out the results of the so-called DNA test. Draco couldn't think of a more nerve-wracking day, as he was feeling both highly relieved and severely anxious at the same time.

        Astoria was absent, as Draco hadn't wanted her around for Hermione's big reveal. Instead, he had advised her to rest in their private suite before lying halfheartedly about where he would be. Her pallor as of late was a cause of concern for him, and he wanted to do anything to lessen the anxiety plaguing his poor wife.

        "Would you like to open it yourself?"

        Hermione's inquiry snapped him away from his thoughts, and his suspicious gaze fell automatically on the seemingly innocent piece of paper the brunette was offering to him.

        With shaking hands, Draco ripped the envelope open and slowly read the words. With great difficulty, he handed the papers back to Hermione, before admitting, "I cannot make sense of this information."

        To her credit, Hermione did not seem to think any less of him, but gently took the proffered sheets. Her eyes quickly scanned left and right, top to bottom, at a speed that was somewhat alarming to Draco. It was when her entire face turned white that he began to worry.

        "What is it?" he demanded. "What does it say!"

        Hermione glanced at him warily, as if she was having a hard time deciding how to explain. "Er, I'm not sure exactly what kind of curse we're dealing with, but this definitely means that something _is_ blocking the Black genes from Scorpius' DNA…"

        Draco scowled. "So what now? It doesn't seem to have provided any useful knowledge at all!"

        "No, Draco," Hermione breathed, "it means we've narrowed down the root of it-the reason the magic won't latch onto your son! According to these results, Scorpius' blood doesn't match up with any Black blood at all. If there truly is a hex on him, it's targeting his blood connection to you, which is why his magic isn't working with the Black wards." At Draco's startled expression, she gently took his shaking hand. "We'll find a way to counter it."

        Draco could find no will for a scathing remark or a sarcastic snarl. Without a word, he shook off Hermione's comforting touch and stormed off towards his private study.

        Upon slamming the door and casting every locking and privacy spell he could, he finally let himself collapse into an armchair with a held back sob.

        He knew that Hermione had done all she could to help him, and at such short notice, at that. But he couldn't help but grasp at the splinters of doubt that told him it was all mistaken, that the muggle methods had failed to provide any real information.

        Of course, even he knew that there was a very narrow, possibly non-existent margin of error when it came to Hermione and research… Which then prompted him to start worrying about Scorpius even more. It didn't help that he had essentially isolated himself in his barricaded study, but he couldn't really face the facts just yet. Not when his son was concerned.

        It wasn't until he had begun to pace in front of his desk that he noticed a foreign piece of parchment resting atop his other files. Crisp and stark white against his mahogany desk, the folded card mocked him with its mere presence. With shaking fingers, Draco grasped at the note, fully intending to show it to Harry as soon as he read whatever new threat his stalker had left this time.

        He didn't even have the chance to gasp in furious surprise as a force grabbed him from behind his navel. In the blink of an eye, Draco was gone.

        

***

        Wearing down the carpet in front of his office fire did nothing to soothe Harry's nerves, but he couldn't stop. A sudden sense of recklessness had overcome him, and his feet took up the challenge of using his pent up energy. He felt like a tightly wound coil at the end of its limit. The Floo roared a vivid emerald, and the brunet was immediately on his knees to take the call he'd been expecting from Malfoy Manor.

        It wasn't Draco.

        "Harry?" Hermione began, voice filled with concern. He must have looked like shit, then.

        "Any news?"

        She bit her lip. "Well..."

        "Well, what?" he asked impatiently.

        "We did figure out that there really is something blocking the magic around Scorpius, using his blood as some sort of focus. Narcissa and I are sorting through books."

        Harry let out a nervous breath. "And Draco?" he asked worriedly. "I've got this weird feeling in my gut. Can't explain, but it just feels like something's terribly wrong."

        "Well, he did react quite negatively to the DNA test, he's gone and locked himself up in one of his enormous rooms somewhere."

        "Would you mind asking him if he could come speak to me now? Ron and I have some things we wanted to ask. They're pretty…er, he just needs to hear it from me," he amended.

        "I suppose so..." Hermione considered, before jogging off to find the blond.

        As it turned out, Harry didn't have to wait long.

        His best friend came running back into his view, face splotched with panic and fear. She didn't even have to explain. He knew his instincts had been correct.

        "I'll alert the team." Harry immediately went into his element. "You stay and keep an eye on the Malfoys, I'll send a team to protect the Manor."

        In the ensuing muster of the Auror team, no one could tell that the calm and efficient exterior masked a whole other level of chaos within. Harry was a mix of fury and focus, his mind intent on doing nothing but finding Draco and punishing whoever took him.

        It wasn't even something he could properly process at the moment, but his thoughts and actions confirmed the facts: he undoubtedly cared about Draco Malfoy. A fucking lot, if his tightly clenched fists and escalating frustration were anything to go by. Harry hadn't exactly left himself much room for denial.

        The question he kept avoiding was _why_.

 


	30. *A message from the Author*

Hi, readers!  
  
No need to panic, this is just a quick note to all of you who are still waiting, that **THIS FIC IS NOT ABANDONED**.   
  
Soon after I posted the last chapter, I had gotten a new job, and it is really eating up a lot of my usual free time. Prior to that job, I was basically freelancing and staying at home 6 days a week. Now I work in an office 5-6 full days a week. Let me tell you, man do I miss all that free time haha.  
  
I know that the waiting game for a WIP is difficult, but I promise you that I will not let you down! It's just taking much longer to find time to consistently write.   
  
I miss reading your comments and reviews! Will post the next chapter soon!  
  
Bye for now! :)   
  
Love,  
Idishi <3


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